#it's starting to NOT look like a word anymore. help

[shdysders]

lips that lied

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: tara makes a drunken mistake at the party you didn't want her to attend.

word count: 8.5k

Tara didn't mean for it to turn into a fight.

She never did. It was like something inside her took over—this simmering frustration that she couldn't control, no matter how hard she tried.

The moment someone started telling her what to do or how to live her life, it was like a switch flipped.

She'd hear the words, feel the anger rise, and before she even realized it, she was saying something sharp, defensive.

It had started small, little things that shouldn't have mattered so much. Sam reminding her to take her laundry to her room or nagging her to empty the dishwasher.

Tara knew Sam wasn't trying to push her buttons, but it always felt like she was. The tone Sam used—the one laced with authority, like she was the boss of everything—grated on Tara's nerves.

It didn't matter that Sam was older, that she'd been through more. Tara wasn't a kid anymore. She didn't need someone hovering over her shoulder, pointing out every little thing she did wrong.

But it wasn't just Sam anymore. The fights had started bleeding into other parts of her life, other relationships. With you. And that hurt more than anything.

You were the one person Tara felt like she could truly be herself around, the one who always had her back, no matter what.

But lately, it felt like every conversation between you two ended the same way—with raised voices and lingering tension. And no matter how hard she tried to keep her temper in check, she always ended up getting mad.

She didn't mean it. She didn't intend to lash out at you. But when you brought up the parties, the drinking, the staying out late, it was like a spark to dry tinder. It wasn't the words themselves—it was the way you said them.

The concern in your voice, the way your brows furrowed just slightly, like you were worried but also disappointed. It made her feel like you didn't trust her, like you thought she was reckless and incapable. And that stung more than she'd ever let on.

Deep down, Tara knew where you were coming from. After everything you'd both been through—everything with Ghostface—it made sense that you'd be scared, that you'd want to protect her. She understood that.

But she couldn't shake the feeling that your concern came with strings, like it was just another way of trying to control her. Another way of making her feel small, like she couldn't make her own choices without you or Sam hovering over her shoulder.

And maybe it wasn't fair to take it out on you. Maybe it wasn't fair to get angry every time you brought it up. But Tara couldn't help it. The anger came fast and burned hot, and by the time she realized it, the damage was already done.

It was always about the same thing, too—the parties, the drinking. Always. You'd look at her like she was throwing her life away, and she'd lash out, throwing up her walls before you could even get a word in.

She hated the look on your face when it happened, the way your shoulders would drop just slightly, like you were trying to hide how much it hurt.

But that only made her angrier—at you, at herself, at everything.

Because she didn't know how to stop it. She didn't know how to stop feeling like this, like everyone she cared about was trying to tell her how to live her life. And she didn't know how to tell you that it wasn't you she was angry at—it was everything else.

Tara had been trying—really, she had. There were nights she'd sat on her bed, staring at the ceiling, telling herself she didn't need to go out again. That she could say no the next time her friends invited her to a party. College life wasn't supposed to be about drinking until you blacked out or waking up to half-remembered nights.

That's what you and Sam had told her, over and over. And the worst part? You were right. Tara knew you were right. That's probably why it made her so angry.

She hated the way her stomach twisted every time you brought it up, the way your words stuck in her head like some nagging voice she couldn't shake.

She wasn't proud of some of the nights she'd had—the tequila shots that blurred into oblivion, the mornings she woke up with her head pounding and no idea how she got back to her room.

But she didn't want to hear it from you. Not when it already weighed on her enough.

And yet, she'd been trying. Tara hadn't gone to as many parties recently, even when her friends begged her to come out. She told herself she didn't need it, that she didn't need to drown herself in the chaos of booze and loud music just to feel something.

College wasn't about that. You and Sam were right about that too.

But tonight... tonight was Halloween.

The one night of the year where partying didn't feel reckless—it felt expected. It wasn't just about drinking; it was about the costumes, the energy, the way everyone on campus seemed to buzz with excitement for weeks leading up to it.

Tara had spent the last two days scrolling through pictures of her friends' costumes, feeling the first pangs of FOMO creeping in as they texted her plans for the night.

If there was ever a night to drink and party, it was Halloween. That's what everyone kept saying, and deep down, Tara agreed. It wasn't like any other night of the year. This wasn't just some random frat party—it was a celebration, an excuse to dress up, let loose, and not think about all the heavy stuff for a while. For once, it felt justified.

But there was that nagging voice again. The one that sounded a lot like yours.

You wouldn't see it that way. You never did.

It was part of why she hadn't brought it up yet, why she'd stayed quiet all day when the group chat started blowing up with details about pre-games and house locations. She already knew what you'd say, could hear the conversation playing out in her head like a bad rerun.

Isn't it the same as every other one? You said you were going to cut back, Tara.

She sighed, pulling her phone out and scrolling through the endless stream of messages. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about staying in. There was something comforting about the idea of spending the night with you, cozying up on the couch with a movie while everyone else partied. She liked those nights the most. She liked you the most.

But Halloween only came once a year, and she wasn't ready to let it pass her by.

She had made up her mind hours ago.

Though she hadn't told you yet, and maybe that was unfair. But what was the point? You'd already made your feelings clear about the parties and the drinking, and she wasn't in the mood for another lecture. It wasn't like she needed your permission anyway. Tara had spent all afternoon convincing herself of that, repeating it in her head like a mantra while she got ready.

Now, standing in front of her mirror, she leaned in closer, carefully dragging the eyeliner across her lid with a steady hand. Her music played softly from her speaker as she moved with practiced ease, brushing a shimmery gold shadow over her eyes.

The sound of your footsteps approaching the room made her shoulders tense, but she didn't let it show. She focused on her reflection, keeping her face neutral, as if she hadn't heard you come to the doorway.

You leaned against the frame, your arms crossed loosely over your chest. "Where are you going?" Your voice was casual, but the curiosity behind it was unmistakable.

Tara's eyes flicked to yours in the mirror, her expression calm, as if this were no big deal. "Just a Halloween party," she said, her tone light and nonchalant. She reached for her lipstick, uncapping it and twisting it up. "I was thinking maybe you could come along."

It was true. She wanted you to come.

You didn't answer right away. Tara could feel your hesitation, the way your arms tightened slightly against your body. Finally, you spoke, your voice softer this time. "Oh... I thought we could just stay home and watch a movie. Sam's not home, so it'd just be the two of us."

Tara froze for just a second, the lipstick poised in her hand. She felt the weight of your words settle over the room, quiet but heavy. She hadn't thought about that—about how it would've been just you and her tonight, no interruptions, no one else around.

Her gaze flicked back to the mirror, and for a moment, she almost said yes. But the lipstick in her hand reminded her of where her night was already headed, of the costume she'd spent hours putting together.

She sighed quietly, muttering under her breath, "Well, you should've said something sooner, then."

The words were out before she could stop them. She didn't even think about how they'd sound until the silence that followed made her realize just how loud they'd been.

Slowly, she glanced at you again in the mirror, her stomach twisting as she saw the way your expression changed—the faint flicker of hurt in your eyes, the way your posture straightened as if bracing for something.

Tara clenched her jaw, trying to push down the flicker of anger she could already feel stirring in her chest. She hadn't meant to snap—it just came out wrong. But the way you stood there, looking at her like she'd just let you down, made it so much harder to keep her cool.

She capped the lipstick with a sharp click and turned to face you fully, leaning one hand against the desk behind her. "Are you coming or not?" she asked, her voice clipped, already tinged with irritation.

You hesitated again, and Tara could see the conflict written all over your face. "No," you said finally, your voice quiet but firm. "And honestly... I don't think you should go either."

There it was—the thing she'd been waiting for, the thing she was dreading. Your concern, your protectiveness, wrapped up in a polite but unmistakable disapproval.

Tara let out a sharp exhale, shaking her head as she pushed off the desk. "Of course you don't," she muttered under her breath, though it wasn't quite quiet enough to go unnoticed.

She started pacing the room, her hands flexing at her sides as she tried to keep herself in check, but the familiar heat of frustration was already creeping up her neck.

This was how it always started—your calm but firm words, her biting back without thinking, and then the inevitable explosion. She could feel it building, that anger she never knew how to stop, the same kind that always reared its head when Sam tried to tell her what to do.

"I don't get why this is such a big deal," Tara said, her tone sharper than she intended. She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the desk with a defensive edge. "It's Halloween. It's not like I do this every night."

"You shouldn't be doing it at all," you replied, your voice quiet but firm, though there was a tension in your jaw that gave away your frustration. "Tara, you know it's not safe. Not after—"

"Don't." Her voice was clipped as she cut you off, her eyes narrowing as she shook her head. "Don't bring that up." She pushed herself off the desk, turning her back to you.

Her fingers tightened around the fabric as she stared at the floor. Her chest felt tight, her heart pounding against her ribs like it wanted to break free. She didn't need you to say it. She already knew. The parties, the drinking—it wasn't safe. It wasn't smart. But she was so tired of being reminded of it, so tired of feeling like she couldn't make a single decision without someone stepping in to tell her it was the wrong one.

"Why do we keep having this same conversation?" Tara asked, spinning around to face you, her voice louder now, almost exasperated. She threw her hands up, the movement sharp and agitated. "Why can't you just trust me?"

"It's not about trust," you said, your voice rising slightly to match hers, though you clearly didn't want to fight. "It's about being realistic, Tara. If something happens—"

"Nothing is going to happen!" Tara snapped, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. She took a step closer to you, her frustration spilling out in the way her fists clenched at her sides. "Why do you always assume the worst? I'm not some reckless idiot who can't take care of herself!"

You flinched slightly, your lips pressing together into a thin line. But then, your eyes met hers, steady and unflinching. "I don't think you're reckless," you said, your voice softer now but still resolute. "I think you're stubborn. And I think you're angry, and you don't even know why half the time."

Tara's breath hitched, the words cutting deeper than she'd expected. Her jaw tightened, and she let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head as she looked away. "Oh, so now I'm the problem?" she muttered bitterly, pacing a few steps to the other side of the room.

"I didn't say that," you said, your voice still calm, but there was an edge to it now—a frustration that had been building over time. "But you don't listen, Tara. Not to me. Not to Sam. It's like you don't care how much we worry about you."

She stopped pacing, her head snapping up to meet your gaze. "I didn't ask you to worry," she shot back, her tone colder now. "I didn't ask for either of you to act like I'm some fragile little kid who can't handle herself."

The words hung in the air, heavy and cutting.

"Tara..." Your voice wavered slightly, and for a moment, she saw the hurt flicker in your eyes, the way your shoulders sagged just a bit. "I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to keep you safe. Because I care about you. Because I love you. And it feels like you don't even care about that."

Her chest tightened at your words, but she pushed the feeling down, burying it beneath her anger. "I do care," she snapped, though her voice cracked slightly. "But I can't keep living my life walking on eggshells because you're scared something might happen. That's not fair."

"And it's fair to me?" you shot back, your voice rising now, the frustration finally spilling over. "To stand here and watch you go out, knowing damn well something could happen to you and I'd be powerless to stop it?"

Tara opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss. Her hands fell to her sides, her breathing uneven as she stared at you, the weight of your words sinking in. The anger still simmered beneath her skin, but now it was tangled with guilt, confusion, and something she didn't know how to name.

"It's not safe, Tara," you said, your tone softer this time, like you were pleading with her. Your hands rested at your sides, fingers twitching slightly, a subtle sign of the nerves you were trying to hide. "You drink too much. You're out late, and if something happened—"

"Like what?" Tara cut you off sharply, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as she took a step back. Her posture screamed defensiveness, her jaw tightening as she stared you down. "Ghostface? You think I can't handle myself?"

"That's not what I'm saying, and you know it," you replied, exhaling in frustration. Your tone was measured, but there was an edge to it now, like you were walking a fine line between trying to stay calm and letting your own anger slip through. "I just don't understand why you need to go out all the time. Why can't we just stay here? Together?"

Tara's mouth opened, then closed, her eyes flickering to the floor for a brief second before she met your gaze again. Staying here felt suffocating, like the walls of the apartment were closing in on her a little more every day. But she didn't say that. Instead, she threw her hands up in exasperation, her voice rising despite herself.

"I'm not some kid who needs a curfew, okay? I'm not going to stop living my life just because you and Sam want to keep me locked up in bubble wrap!"

Your face fell, the flicker of hurt in your eyes like a knife twisting in Tara's chest. She hadn't meant it like that—at least, not entirely. But the words were out now, sharp and cutting, and there was no way to take them back.

"Tara..." Your voice was quieter now, but the disappointment in it was unmistakable. It made her stomach churn, but the anger boiling inside her wouldn't let her stop.

"You don't get it," she snapped, doubling down even though part of her wanted to stop. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, her body trembling slightly as she glared at you. "You never want to come with me anyway, so why do you care so much? You're just going to sit here and judge me from the couch like you always do!"

"That's not fair," you said, your voice breaking slightly, but you didn't raise it. Instead, you crossed your arms, your shoulders hunching defensively as you looked at her, the sadness in your eyes more apparent now. "I'm not judging you, Tara. I'm scared for you. There's a difference."

"Scared for me?" she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she took another step back, her arms still crossed like she was shielding herself. "I don't need you to be scared for me. I'm fine! I'm not some helpless little girl who needs you holding my hand every second of the day!"

You blinked, your lips parting like you wanted to say something, but the words didn't come. Tara could see the hurt written all over your face, the way your shoulders slumped like her words had physically knocked the wind out of you.

"Why do you always do this?" she continued, her voice louder now, cracking slightly at the edges. She ran a hand through her hair, pacing a few steps before spinning back around to face you. "Why do you always make me feel like I'm the bad guy? Like I'm the problem?"

"I'm not trying to make you feel like anything," you said, your voice shaking now, though you still kept it calm. "I just—I don't want to lose you, Tara. Is that so hard to understand?"

Tara froze for a moment, your words cutting through her anger like a blade. But instead of softening, the guilt twisting in her gut only fueled the fire.

"You're not going to lose me," she said, her tone sharp, almost dismissive. "But you can't keep treating me like I'm going to break every time I step out the door. That's not fair to me, okay? I'm allowed to have a life."

The silence that followed was heavy, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on. Tara's chest heaved as she stared at you, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails bit into her palms.

You took a step closer, your hands falling to your sides as you looked at her with pleading eyes. "I'm not trying to take away your life, Tara. I just want to be a part of it. And I want you to be safe. That's all."

Tara's hands shook at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to hold herself together. But the tightness in her chest only grew, her pulse pounding in her ears.

She felt caged, suffocated by the weight of your concern, like every decision she made had to be scrutinized and questioned.

It wasn't fair—it wasn't fair that you could make her feel this way, guilty and cornered, when all she wanted was space to breathe.

"Well, maybe I don't want you to be a part of it!" The words were out before she could stop them, and the second they left her mouth, she wanted to take them back.

Your expression shattered, your eyes widening slightly as you stepped back like she'd physically pushed you. The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.

Tara swallowed hard, her throat tightening as she looked away. "I didn't mean that," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. But the damage was already done.

You didn't say anything, your lips pressing into a thin line as you looked down, your hands clenching at your sides.

"I'm going," she said finally, her voice colder now as she grabbed her jacket off the chair. "Don't wait up."

You finally opened your mouth at that, your voice trembling as you took a hesitant step forward. "Tara, wait, I'll—”

But you were interrupted by the sharp slam of the door.

Which Tara slammed behind her harder than she meant to, the sharp sound echoing in the hallway. She paused for a moment, her chest heaving as the anger slowly began to ebb, leaving guilt in its place. She rubbed a hand over her face, muttering a quiet curse under her breath.

She did feel bad. She hated the look on your face, the way your shoulders had slumped, like her words had taken something out of you.

But going back now? That would only prove your point—that she couldn't handle herself. Tara wasn't going to let that happen.

Her boots clicked against the pavement as she made her way down the street, her jacket pulled tightly around her. The city was alive with Halloween energy, groups of costumed people spilling out of bars and clubs, laughter and music filling the air. It should've made her feel better, reminded her why she was doing this. Instead, it only made her stomach twist.

By the time she reached the house, the bass from the music inside was already vibrating through the sidewalk. The door swung open as someone stumbled out, nearly knocking into her, and Tara slipped past them without a word.

Inside, the party was in full swing. The living room was packed with people, costumes ranging from elaborate to lazy crowding every corner. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat, the music loud enough to drown out her thoughts. Perfect.

The first thing she did was head for the kitchen, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. She grabbed a red solo cup from the counter and poured herself a drink, the burn of the cheap vodka barely registering as she tipped it back and swallowed half in one go.

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her chest. Tara grabbed another cup—this time mixing it with whatever mixer was nearby—and made her way back to the main room, the tension in her body slowly unwinding.

"Tara!" Anika's voice cut through the noise, and Tara turned to see her standing near the couch, Mindy by her side. Both of them were grinning, their costumes half-wrinkled from the chaos of the party.

"Hey!" Tara forced a smile, lifting her drink in a half-hearted salute as she made her way over.

"Look at you!" Mindy said, smirking as she gave Tara a once-over. "All dressed up and ready to party. Didn't think you were coming."

"Changed my mind," Tara replied casually, taking another sip of her drink as she leaned against the wall.

Anika nudged her playfully, her own drink sloshing slightly in her hand. "Glad you did. It's not a party without you."

Tara chuckled softly, her smile feeling a little more real now. The noise, the crowd, the alcohol—it was a distraction, exactly what she needed.

Anika shook her head, grinning as she sipped her drink. "Where's Y/N? I thought you two were hanging out tonight."

Mindy shot Tara a knowing look, raising her drink to her lips as she waited for the response.

Tara stiffened, her grip tightening slightly on her cup before she masked it with a shrug. "She didn't feel like coming."

"Really?" Anika frowned. "She seemed excited about Halloween the other day."

"She had other plans," Tara said quickly, brushing it off as she took another sip of her drink. "It's not a big deal."

Anika's brows furrowed slightly, but she didn't push. Mindy, however, smirked as she leaned closer. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Shut up," Tara muttered, rolling her eyes as she took a long drink.

Mindy laughed, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Just saying."

"Okay, but seriously," Mindy said, her tone conspiratorial as she leaned closer, clearly trying to change the subject. "Who do you think has the worst costume here? My vote's on the guy in the banana suit.”

Tara snorted, the tension in her chest loosening a little more as she let herself fall into the moment, pushing everything else to the back of her mind.

For now, this was enough.

But it wasn't for long.

The drinks went down too easily tonight, one after the other, the burn of the alcohol soon replaced by a numbing buzz that made Tara's limbs feel weightless. She wasn't keeping track—she never did—but by the time she was halfway through her fourth drink, the world around her had already started to blur.

It was worse than usual. She could feel it, the familiar dizziness settling in her head, the way her balance wavered slightly every time she shifted her weight. But she didn't care. She couldn't care.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw your face—the way your voice had cracked when you said, "I just don't want to lose you." The guilt she'd managed to bury earlier was bubbling back to the surface, and the only way to shove it down again was to keep drinking.

By the time she reached for her fifth cup, her hands were unsteady. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice told her to stop, that this was too much, too fast. But that voice sounded a lot like you, and Tara didn't want to hear it.

She threw back the drink anyway, wincing as it went down harder this time, the sweetness of the mixer barely masking the sharpness of the alcohol. The room spun slightly when she set the cup down, and she reached out to steady herself on the edge of the counter.

"Hey, you good?" someone asked, but Tara didn't bother turning to look. She waved them off with a muttered "Yeah, fine," before pushing herself away from the counter.

She stumbled back into the main room, the crowd swallowing her whole. Anika and Mindy had been here a minute ago—she was sure of it—but now they were nowhere to be seen.

God, she was drunk. Too drunk.

She tried to push through the sea of people, her eyes darting around the room in search of her friends. Her chest tightened when she couldn't spot them, panic starting to creep in around the edges of her alcohol-fueled haze.

Someone bumped into her, spilling a bit of their drink onto her jacket, and she spun around, her frustration spilling out in a slurred, "Watch it!" The person just rolled their eyes and moved on, leaving Tara standing there, unsteady and alone in the middle of the chaos.

Her head was pounding now, the music too loud, the lights too bright. She fumbled for her phone, pulling it out of her pocket to call Anika or Mindy, but her fingers felt clumsy, and she nearly dropped it twice before managing to open her contacts.

No answer.

Tara swallowed hard, her throat burning from the alcohol and something else she didn't want to name. The room felt smaller now, the walls closing in as the reality of the situation began to settle over her. She'd lost her friends. She was drunker than she'd ever been. And she had no idea what to do next.

The air in the crowded living room was stifling, thick with the mingling scents of sweat, spilled drinks, and cheap perfume.

Her head was swimming, the pounding bass vibrating in her chest like a second heartbeat. She pressed a hand to her temple, grimacing as the alcohol buzz threatened to tip her into full-on dizziness.

Her throat burned, dry and aching from the string of drinks she'd knocked back earlier. She needed water. Something cold to clear her head and keep her upright. The thought became a singular focus, cutting through the haze. Just water. If she could get to the kitchen, maybe she could think straight again.

The dimly lit hallway leading to it felt like a challenge course, bodies crowding every step of the way. Tara squeezed past a couple leaning against the wall and miscalculated her footing as her balance wavered. Before she could stop herself, she collided into someone with enough force to send her stumbling back.

"Whoa there," the guy said, his hands coming up instinctively to catch her by the shoulders.

Tara blinked, disoriented, her face heating from the embarrassment and the alcohol swirling in her system. "Sorry," she muttered, trying to straighten herself as her vision cleared enough to see who she'd bumped into.

Frankie. Of course.

He smirked, letting his hands drop but not stepping back. "Tara Carpenter, right?" His tone carried a mix of recognition and amusement, as though the universe had handed him this moment just for fun.

"Yeah," she said, brushing her hair back as she tried to shake off the drunken haze clouding her thoughts. "Sorry, I wasn't—"

"Looking where you were going?" he teased, his grin widening.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the faint curve of a smile tugging at her lips. "Something like that."

Frankie didn't move away, his presence lingering a little too close for what might have been polite. He tilted his head, giving her a once-over with that same smirk, his dark eyes glinting under the dim light.

"You seem like you've had a good time tonight," he said, his voice light but edged with something Tara couldn't quite place.

She shrugged, brushing imaginary lint off her sleeve as a distraction. "It's a party," she said, aiming for casual. "That's kind of the point, isn't it?"

Frankie chuckled, the sound low and smooth. "True. But you look like you might need a breather. Want some water or...?"

Tara raised an eyebrow, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. She wasn't sure if he was being considerate or just trying to prolong the conversation. Either way, she crossed her arms, leaning her hip against the counter to steady herself.

"I was about to get one," she admitted, her voice more defensive than she intended.

"Smart move," Frankie said, stepping around her to open the fridge. He pulled out a bottle and held it up with a crooked smile. "Ladies first?"

Her gaze flicked between him and the bottle, her lips quirking in a faint smirk of her own. "Thanks," she said, taking it from him and twisting the cap off.

She took a long sip, her throat easing from the burn of the earlier drinks. The water was cold, sharp against her tongue, and for a moment, she let herself focus on that—on the relief of it.

"So," Frankie said, leaning back against the counter as he watched her. "What brings you to this madhouse tonight? Thought you weren't much for these kinds of things."

Tara bristled slightly at the question, shifting her weight to the other foot. "Why does everyone assume that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "I can have fun, you know."

He grinned again, but it was softer this time, almost like he was testing the waters. "Didn't mean anything by it," he said. "Just... you seem more low-key. Not the type to down four drinks and stumble into strangers."

Tara rolled her eyes, though she couldn't entirely stop the heat rising to her cheeks. "Guess I'm full of surprises," she said, taking another sip of water.

Her thoughts drifted briefly as the alcohol in her system dulled her usual defenses. It felt nice, talking to someone without the tension simmering beneath the surface. No fights, no accusations, just... this. A moment where she wasn't angry or being scolded. She leaned into the counter, letting herself relax slightly.

Tara let her gaze drift over Frankie for a moment, her vision slightly unfocused from the alcohol but sharp enough to take in the details. His short, dark curls framed his face, and there was something effortlessly casual about him—like he knew exactly how to play the part of the guy who didn't care too much but somehow still caught everyone's attention.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, a fixture she doubted ever left, and the faintest trace of a beard shadowed his jawline.

She took another sip of water, using the motion to cover the way her eyes lingered. It wasn't like she was interested—not really. He had a reputation, and not the good kind. But he was here. He was talking to her. And with her friends somewhere out in the chaos of the party, who else was she supposed to talk to?

Tara knew she was drunk, the buzz coursing through her veins a constant reminder. It made everything feel a little too easy, a little too warm.

Her thoughts were slippery, darting from one thing to another before she could catch them. But still, she could look, couldn't she? That wasn't a crime.

"Your friends ditch you or something?" Frankie's voice cut through the fog in her head, his tone light but curious.

She shrugged, her fingers curling around the neck of the water bottle. "Something like that," she said, leaning a little more heavily against the counter. "They'll turn up eventually."

"Mm," he hummed, his smirk deepening. "Guess that makes me the lucky one, then."

Tara raised an eyebrow at that, her lips twitching into a faint smile despite herself. "Lucky?" she echoed, her tone teasing.

"Yeah," he said, his gaze flickering over her like he was sizing her up. "I get to keep you company."

She rolled her eyes, though the warmth in her chest spread a little further. "You're full of it," she muttered, but there wasn't any bite to her words.

He shrugged, unbothered. "Maybe. But you're still standing here, aren't you?"

She didn't answer right away, instead glancing at the door that led back into the main room. The thump of the music bled through, muffled but still loud enough to make her head ache. She could leave. She could walk back out there, try to find Mindy and Anika and pretend she wasn't standing here with him.

But instead, she stayed.

"You're right," she said finally, her tone dry. "Guess I am."

Her lips curved into a smirk, matching the one Frankie had been wearing since the moment she stumbled into him. Her steps were slow but deliberate as she closed the distance between them, her eyes locked on his.

The noise of the party around them faded into the background, leaving only the faint thrum of the bass vibrating through the walls.

She didn't know why she was moving closer, or what exactly she was hoping to find in the glint of amusement in his eyes, but she didn't stop herself either. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her veins, softening the sharp edges of her usual caution. Maybe it was the simmering anger she hadn't been able to shake since she left the apartment.

Either way, the part of her that usually screamed to think twice was silent, and she wasn't about to argue.

Frankie didn't step back as she approached. If anything, his smirk widened, the corners of his lips curling with a confidence that might have been off-putting if she were sober. But she wasn't sober, and the alcohol told her it was a good thing. His posture remained relaxed, leaning slightly against the counter, but his eyes followed her every move.

Tara stopped just close enough for the air between them to feel charged, her gaze flickering down to the beer in his hand before returning to his face.

Her heart thudded in her chest, though she couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol coursing through her veins or the strange electricity in the air between them. Her balance wavered slightly as she shifted onto her tiptoes, her hands briefly brushing the counter for support before she reached up.

The decision wasn't calculated—it wasn't even really a decision. It just happened. Her lips pressed to his, soft but insistent, the faint bitterness of beer on his mouth mingling with the warmth of his breath.

For the briefest moment, her mind went completely quiet. The noise of the party faded into the background. The tension from earlier, the argument, the mess of emotions—none of it mattered. Her chest felt lighter, as if she'd found a fleeting relief she hadn't even known she was searching for.

Frankie responded almost instantly, his lips moving against hers with a confidence that matched his earlier demeanor. His hand slid to her waist, steadying her as she leaned further into him. The kiss was firm, and there was no hesitation on his part. It was easy, natural, and for a fleeting second.

But then, just as quickly, he pulled away, breaking the connection with a soft sound that felt too loud in the charged silence between them. Tara blinked up at him, her breath hitching slightly as she tried to process the shift.

Frankie's expression was a mixture of amusement and something darker, his brows furrowed slightly even as a small, lopsided smirk played on his lips. His eyes scanned her face like he was trying to solve a puzzle, his voice low and teasing when he finally spoke. "Don't you have a girlfriend?"

The words hung in the air, sharp and pointed, but they didn't land the way they should have. Tara's mind didn't snap to you, to your laugh or your smile or the way you always made her feel safe. It didn't even flicker with guilt. Instead, the question felt almost absurd, like it wasn't meant for her.

Her expression shifted, her brows knitting together as her lips parted slightly in confusion. She stared at Frankie, her drunken mind slow to process the accusation. "No," she said finally, the word slipping out with a sharp edge, like the idea itself offended her.

She barely gave him time to react. His smirk widened slightly, like he wasn't entirely convinced, but she didn't care. She didn't want to care. She pushed up onto her toes again, her hands gripping the edge of the counter for balance, and kissed him once more.

This time, Frankie didn't hesitate. His hands found her waist again, pulling her closer as he kissed her back with more force. Tara leaned into him, her body moving instinctively as her mind quieted further. The heat of his touch and the pressure of his lips were the only things she could focus on, drowning out the buzz of the party and the alcohol swirling in her system.

The kiss deepened, and the edges of the room blurred as the world around them fell away. Tara didn't think. She didn't analyze. She just let herself go, letting the moment sweep her up completely, letting the alcohol and adrenaline guide her. For now, it was easier not to remember. Easier not to think about anything else.

It didn't feel good.

That was the thought that struck her, sharp and insistent, as the kiss deepened. There was a hollowness in her chest, a feeling she couldn't quite place that refused to be drowned out by the alcohol. But it was supposed to feel good. That's what she told herself. This was what she came here for, wasn't it? To forget. To escape. To lose herself in something that didn't matter.

Frankie's hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer, and Tara kissed him harder, as if forcing the moment to feel like it was enough would make it so. But that sensation in her stomach—the one that twisted and knotted itself tighter with every second—didn't leave.

Her lips moved against his with a kind of desperation, but the spark she expected, the relief she thought she'd find, didn't come. The kiss was warm, his touch steady, but it wasn't enough to chase away the heaviness sitting in her chest. It wasn't enough to erase the lingering anger, the ache she refused to name, or the faint sense of wrongness pressing at the edges of her mind.

Tara told herself it was the alcohol. That the burn in her stomach and the dull ache creeping up her spine was just the vodka catching up to her. But it wasn't. It was something else entirely, something she didn't want to think about.

So she pushed it down, ignored it. She kissed Frankie like it was a solution, like if she just went through the motions hard enough, it would fix the uneasy feeling clawing at her insides. She tilted her head, her fingers gripping the counter for balance, and kissed him like she meant it.

But no matter how hard she tried, that feeling in her stomach didn't leave.

And then.

It hit her all at once, like a punch to the gut.

You.

Her body froze against Frankie's, the haze of alcohol momentarily lifting as her mind snapped into sharp, almost painful focus. She did have a girlfriend. A girlfriend who was waiting at home for her.

A girlfriend who had looked at her earlier with worry etched into her features, asking her to stay, asking her to talk.

A girlfriend who wanted nothing more than to spend the night curled up on the couch with her, watching movies and laughing at whatever cheesy dialogue made its way onto the screen.

She had you.

And she'd told Frankie she didn't. She'd looked him in the eyes, as if the very idea of you didn't exist, and said no. No. She'd kissed him, lied to him, and to herself, and for what?

Her breath caught in her throat as the weight of it all came crashing down.

Tara shoved Frankie away abruptly, panic tightening every muscle in her body. The force sent her stumbling back a step, and Frankie staggered too, looking utterly baffled.

"What the fuck?" he spat, his voice sharp and angry, his brows furrowing in disbelief.

Tara barely heard him. Her chest heaved as she scanned the kitchen, her eyes darting to the edges of the room, searching frantically. Had anyone seen them? Was someone standing there, phone in hand, ready to immortalize her mistake forever?

Her hands trembled as her gaze swept over the crowd, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She didn't know if it was the alcohol, the fear, or the overwhelming realization of what she'd just done, but the world tilted slightly as her mind raced, desperate to make sense of what had just happened—and to undo it, even though she knew she couldn't.

Tara's eyes darted wildly across the room, desperate to anchor herself to something, anything that would quiet the storm brewing inside her. One of the doors creaked open as someone stumbled in, but she was already turning toward the noise filtering in from the main room.

Her gaze followed the chaotic scene beyond the doorway—the crowd swaying to the beat of the music, cups raised in the air, bodies pressed too close together.

She spotted a couple making out against the wall, their faces blurred together in the dim light, oblivious to the world around them. Nearby, a guy in a cheap pirate costume laughed loudly, spilling his drink over himself as his friends roared in drunken amusement. It was all so normal, so loud, so suffocating.

And then, her breath hitched.

There, just beyond the shifting sea of people, was a figure standing motionless. Someone was looking straight at her, their eyes locked onto hers.

At first, it didn't register. Her vision swam, the blur of tears and alcohol distorting the scene in front of her. But that silhouette—that hair, those familiar features—something about it cut through the haze, stabbing straight into her chest.

Her pulse quickened as the figure stepped forward, just slightly, enough for the light to catch their face.

It was you.

Tara froze.

It was you—your eyes, your expression. The heartbreak painted so clearly across your face, it made her stomach twist painfully. And then there was your costume—something hastily thrown together, it seemed. A loose shirt that was supposed to pass as part of the look, a small prop in your hand that didn't match the theme of the party. It was clear you hadn't cared what you looked like. You had come here for her.

Tara felt like she was going to be sick.

You had seen it. Tara could tell by the look in your eyes, the way they shimmered with unshed tears, the way your brows furrowed ever so slightly, as if trying to make sense of what you'd witnessed.

You had seen her kiss him. Probably seen her lie, even if you hadn't heard the words. The betrayal was written all over your face, the silent confirmation that Tara's worst fear—the one she hadn't even allowed herself to fully acknowledge—was now her reality.

You didn't say a word, didn't move. You just stood there, your shoulders slightly slumped, the light from the room casting harsh shadows over the raw hurt etched into your features. Your lips parted like you wanted to speak, but no sound came out.

She couldn't breathe.

Her body trembled, her legs feeling like they'd give out at any moment. The guilt crashed over her in waves, suffocating her. Tara's chest tightened as she stared back at you, her lips parting uselessly as though she could explain—could somehow undo what you must have seen.

Her mind raced, replaying the moment just minutes before when she'd lied, when she'd kissed someone who wasn't you.

The taste of Frankie's beer still lingered on her lips, and it made her stomach churn. How could she? How could she do this to you—the one person who cared for her, loved her, even when she didn't deserve it?

Her guilt clawed at her, sharp and unrelenting. She could feel the weight of it in her chest, see it reflected in your eyes.

You were here, dressed in something last-minute, probably feeling out of place in the loud, chaotic party. You'd come for her, likely because you'd wanted to talk, to make things better after the argument. She could see the effort, the love in the way you'd shown up for her. And she'd thrown it away.

Tara's breathing turned shallow, her hands shaking at her sides. She couldn't move, couldn't speak. The words she wanted to say died in her throat, swallowed by the lump of regret that had taken over.

Her lips trembled, but no sound came. The only thing she could do was stand there, staring at the one person she swore she'd never hurt, knowing she already had.

Tara felt as though her chest was caving in, the weight of her actions pressing down until it became nearly unbearable. Her stomach churned violently, guilt sinking its claws into her as her mind replayed every small detail of the moment before. The way her lips had moved against his. The lie she'd so easily let slip from her mouth.

And now, you. Standing there, looking at her like she was a stranger—a stranger who had just torn your heart in two.

Her throat tightened painfully, a lump of emotion rising that she couldn't swallow down no matter how hard she tried. Her head buzzed with alcohol, with shame, with the sudden, overwhelming clarity of what she'd just done.

You weren't supposed to be here. You were supposed to be at home, waiting for her like you always did, with that soft patience only you seemed to have for her. But you weren't.

You were here, in front of her, and she had ruined everything.

A tear slipped down your cheek, catching the dim light as it fell, and it was like a knife slicing through her chest.

She watched as you exhaled shakily, your shoulders rising and falling with effort, as if just standing there was almost too much.

And then you nodded. Slowly, your head dipped once, twice, as if acknowledging what she'd done, what she was.

That nearly undid her.

Your lips pressed into a small, trembling smile—forced, broken, and so soft it shattered her. You tried. Even in the moment where she'd failed you in the worst way, you still tried. And that was what gutted her the most.

You didn't say a word.

You turned around, your movements slow and deliberate, like it physically hurt to walk away.

And Tara stood there, rooted in place, her hands trembling so violently at her sides she could feel her nails biting into her palms. Her chest heaved, her breath shallow and uneven. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to move, to follow you, to grab your hand and beg for forgiveness.

She wanted to run after you, to stop you before you disappeared into the night. She wanted to scream your name, to throw herself at your feet and tell you it was all a mistake, that she only loved you. You. Always you.

But she couldn't move. She was frozen, locked in place by her own fear, her own shame.

And you walked out.

The sound of the front door clicking shut in the distance echoed like a death knell in her ears. Tara felt the walls closing in around her, the party suddenly too loud, too bright, too much. And yet, all she could do was stand there, watching the spot where you'd been, her chest hollow and her heart splintering apart.

She had lost you. And it was her fault.

Tara was left staring at the place you just stood, knowing she'd just destroyed the one thing that ever felt like home.

[mk-wizard]

Dialogue in my head that was too good to keep to myself...

Starscream: That's it! I don't care about the fact that you saved my father anymore! I am NOT one of your recruits, students or underlings! You will cease and desist ordering me around or so help you, I'll- Heatwave: You'll WHAT?! The amnesty status of Decepticons on Earth is fragile enough as it is since the tension between Optimus and Rodimus! And might I remind you that unlike Cyclonus, you DO have a criminal record so technically, you're also on probation! So one false move and you're wings are clipped! Literally! Starscream:... Right now, that sacrifice seems worth it if it will get you off my back! Heatwave: You think I like having to watch your bumper? I don't! But I have to because you always get it into trouble because you either never stay out of trouble or never know when to mute it, Screamer! Starscream: You expect me to live by a human standard?! Heatwave: I expect you to live by a law abiding standard! Cody: *looks between them bickering and rolls his eyes leaving* Starscream: I DO obey the law! I just want to live as a Decepticon! Or is that criminalized on Earth too?! Heatwave: No, it's not, but how come your father, Glyph and Constructicons can follow Earth regulations and-... Aw, slag, I can't believe I'm standing up for them... Starscream: Aha! So the mask slips off! You ARE just following me around hoping I'll slip up so you can play hero! You Autobots are all the same! You think you are the standard of sainthood and every other Transformer is either a savage or a criminal! Why do I even bother playing nice when you all have already decided I'm guilty for just existing?! Heatwave: No! You're guilty because you actually committed war crimes! So spare me the victim card! Starscream: The war brought out the worst on both factions yet only Decepticons are held accountable! I would say that my "victim card" has meaning! Then again, what would YOU know?! You didn't fight in the war! You don't know the horrors I went through that forced my hand! You literally slept through it! You don't know the first thing about genuine suffering! Heatwave: *is insulted* Take. That. Back. Now! Starscream: No! Heatwave: Take it back! Starscream: I will not apologize for telling the truth! Heatwave: *rings Starscream's neck* TAKE IT BAAAAAAACK!! Starscream: *chokes and then grinds his teeth kicking Heatwave in the stomach getting himself free* How DARE you assault me! I'll rip your optics out with my bare hands! Heatwave: I'm gonna dismantle you piece by piece starting with your big voice box! And iceberg comes between them.... Cyclonus: ENOUGH!! *he turns to Starscream* Starscream, Earth was gracious enough to pardon you for your crimes. The least you can do is abide by their rules and stay out of trouble. Starscream: But, father, he- Cyclonus: I know what he did and how he sees us! You think I feel nothing when people only look at my faction and nothing else? Of course I get insulted, hurt and I hate having to constantly prove myself! But we all have to bear it until things change! Until then, be patient and conduct yourself with dignity! Do I make myself clear?! Starscream:... Yes, father. Cyclonus: And as for you, Heatwave, I stand by my words, but just because I walk the walk doesn't mean I am willing to take it sitting down! Not anymore! Heatwave: Huh?! Cyclonus: I have had enough of you circling around at my feet and everyone else's waiting for us to take one step out of line like a Sharkticon waiting to strike its prey! You never leave us alone, you call us slurs including our presence and worst of all, you encourage your own cadets to practice this behaviour! You should be ashamed of yourself! Heatwave:................. I... Cyclonus: I have reported your behaviour to BOTH Primes and they both agree that it qualifies as problematic and harassment! They are on their way in person to address your behaviour and everyone else's! I suggest you reflect and accept YOUR wrongdoings with grace *leaves and Cody is there looking at both Heatwave and Starscream with contempt before leaving*

When I remember they all in the same timeline I giggle

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i'm addicted to the ' if only '

♡ a/n — for a new childhood friends to lovers series :) a little shorter than i wanted but yk

♡ word count — 1.1k

♡ content — sae itoshi x gn! reader, gn! reader, childhood friends to lovers, sae and reader are the " sit by this quiet kid so they rub off on you " kids i fear, mentions of sae going to spain, starts when they're in 5th grade ( does japan do elementary grades like that? idk. ) and goes all the way to the U-20 game, wrote this at midnight so sorry if it's confusing

♡ synopsis — From the moment Sae Itoshi said he loved you, you were his. The long-distance relationship wasn’t easy, but it didn’t matter. You had Sae, and that was enough. He was all you needed after all.

You met Sae Itoshi when you were ten, in the fifth grade. You were the loud one, always raising your hand to answer questions, always running up to classmates to start games during recess. Sae, on the other hand, was quiet. His answers were sharp, direct, and to the point. He preferred to sit at the edge of the classroom, observing rather than participating.

When the teacher paired the two of you together for a science project, you knew immediately that this was going to be difficult.

"Can’t you just sit still for five minutes?" Sae asked, an exasperated edge to his voice as you twirled around with the sheet of paper that was supposed to outline your project plan.

"Nope!" you said with a grin. "Sitting still is boring."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re impossible."

You should’ve hated him. He made it clear he found you irritating, and you had no interest in someone who acted like they were better than everyone else. But there was something about Sae that intrigued you—maybe it was the calmness that always seemed to settle around him, or the way he never tried to impress anyone.

To your surprise, by the time the project ended, he hadn’t abandoned you. Instead, he’d begrudgingly started helping you organize your thoughts, muttering under his breath every time you got distracted but staying by your side nonetheless.

Halfway through the school year, he stopped rolling his eyes when you dragged him outside to play soccer after school.

By the end of the year, you were spending every recess together. You teased him endlessly, calling him your best friend, even though he would only shrug in response.

But he never corrected you.

It wasn’t until you were twelve that you realized how much Sae had become a part of your life.

He wasn’t just your best friend—he was your favorite person. He was there for everything, from the boring group projects to the secret candy stash you shared during recess. He wasn’t just the quiet boy in the corner anymore. He was Sae, the person who made your days brighter without even trying.

One day, when you were both at the park, it hit you.

He was practicing soccer, as always. The golden light of the setting sun bathed his figure, making him look almost ethereal. He didn’t notice the way you were staring, too focused on juggling the ball with practiced ease.

You didn’t understand it then, but something inside you shifted. You found yourself watching him more closely, noticing the way his expression softened when he talked about soccer, the way he always let you have the last piece of candy, even though he’d complain about it afterward.

You liked him.

The realization was terrifying, but you pushed it down. Sae was your best friend, and you didn’t want to ruin that.

When Sae told you he’d been scouted to train in Spain, you didn’t know how to react.

You were happy for him—of course you were. Soccer was his dream, and this was everything he had ever wanted. But as you stood in the airport, watching him get ready to board his flight, all you could think about was how much you were going to miss him.

"Don’t cry," he said, his voice steady. He stood in front of you, his suitcase at his side, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked so calm, so sure of himself, that it almost made you angry.

"I’m not crying," you lied, blinking furiously.

Sae’s gaze softened, just for a moment. "You’ll be fine without me," he said. "You always are."

But you weren’t.

High school was different without Sae.

The loud, hyper child you used to be was gone, replaced by someone quieter, someone who didn’t raise their hand as much in class or run around during lunch breaks. The hole Sae left behind was too big to fill, and you didn’t know how to be yourself without him by your side.

But at night, when your phone buzzed with his Facetime calls, everything felt okay again.

When you were fifteen, one of those calls changed everything.

You were sitting on your bed, rambling about your day, filling the silence with every little detail you could think of. Sae’s face on the screen was calm, as always, but there was something different about his expression.

"I love you," he said suddenly, cutting you off mid-sentence.

Your heart stopped.

"What?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I love you," he repeated, his tone steady, like he had been waiting to say it for a long time. "I’ve loved you for a while."

Tears welled up in your eyes. "I love you too," you said, your voice trembling.

From that moment on, you were his. The long-distance relationship wasn’t easy, but it didn’t matter. You had Sae, and that was enough.

When you were seventeen, everything started to fall apart.

Sae’s texts became shorter, his calls less frequent. You told yourself it was because he was busy—Spain was demanding, and soccer always came first for him. But the doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

One night, he called you.

You were so excited to hear from him that you didn’t notice the tension in his voice. You launched into your day, telling him about school, your friends, everything he had missed. He stayed silent until you finally asked, "Sae? Are you still there?"

"I’m here," he said. His tone was cold, unfamiliar. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Your stomach twisted. "What is it?"

"You’re a bother," he said, his voice flat. "We should break up."

The words didn’t register at first.

"What?" you whispered, your voice shaking. "Sae, what are you talking about?"

"You’re holding me back," he said, his tone as sharp as a blade. "I don’t have time for this anymore."

And just like that, the boy you'd grown to love - your best friend - was gone.

A year later, Sae returned to Japan for the U-20 vs. Blue Lock match.

You hadn’t heard from him since the breakup. Not a single text, not a single call. But even after everything, you couldn’t help but hope. He was still your best friend… right?

You looked for him everywhere—in the streets you used to walk together, in the soccer fields where he used to practice. But he was never there.

The night of the game, you sat alone in your room, watching him on the TV.

He was brilliant. Every move, every goal, was flawless. The Sae on the screen was a stranger, a far cry from the boy who used to roll his eyes at your jokes and share his candy with you.

It doesn’t feel right, you thought, not knowing the Sae that’s out there, shining so brightly.

And maybe, you realized, you never would.

no one said all of these had to be happy. childhood best friends to lovers to strangers anyone ?

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[foreingersgod]

Pls do Caroline Harvey HCs

with just an eeny weeny teensy tiny bit of smut plss 🙏🏾

Headcannons . CH

pairing: caroline harvey (kk harvey) x reader

warnings: a mix of fluffy content and smut, so read at your own discretion and minors and men please do NOT interact!

this is my peace offering for being so busy and slacking on writing, full length fic coming soon!!

also not spell checked, sorry!!

SFW (barely but no smut)

i feel like she’s a pretty domestic person, i think she’d prefer quiet nights at home with you as opposed to going out and partying. i imagine her being the one to beg you to stay and do date night at home anytime you suggested getting dinner or seeing a movie.

“but babe why can’t we just stay home?! we have food and plenty of movies here!” she’d whine when you asked “i’ll even make you dinner myself! come on, i jus’ want you all to myself”

on a similar note, i also think she’s not huge on PDA and that’s why she loves staying in with you so much. it’s not that she doesn’t feel comfortable being seen with you, it’s just that she’s kind of reserved and prefers to keep her personal life as private as she can. for her sake and for yours.

which has its perks, don’t get me wrong. you almost prefer it that way, subtle little touches when you’re out with friends or something like that, her hand gently resting on your lower back or her head resting on your shoulder when she gets tired. and then you’d get home, and she wouldn’t be able to help herself anymore. she’d be all over you in an instant.

“fuck,” she pants when you finally walk into your shared apartment for the night. you had been out for your mutual friends birthday, and you unintentionally intentionally decided to wear something fairly revealing “y’know what you do to me? wearing something like that?”

and believe me…she’d make up for the lack of public affection in other ways.

i’d like to think that her love language is acts of service. like she still loves to touch you and validate you and all that lovely girlfriend stuff, but she shows her love in more ways than just words.

she’d often leave you sticky notes on the fridge when you got home later than she did, maybe leave some on your nightstand when she had to leave early in the mornings when you’re still asleep. always leaving an “xoxo C” at the bottom to tell you she’s thinking of you.

not only that, but she’d do a lot of household chores for you when you were busy with school and work, run you relaxing baths when you were sick, or even something so little as running to the supermarket to grab your favorite ice cream when you started your period.

she’d be one of those stereotypical lesbians that just absolutely worships the ground their girlfriend walks on. she never fails to bring you up in conversations and is quite willing to do anything you ask.

one night you’re winding down after a long day, watching tv and painting your nails whilst caroline sits beside you to keep you company. she’s quite honestly not paying attention to what’s playing on the screen at least, rather her eyes are glued to you. she watches the way the lavender lacquer glides across your nail, how your tongue sticks out in conversation and she’s in complete awe of how beautiful you look doing the most mundane things.

“hey caroline?” you asked with a pout.

“yeah baby?” she hums in response, pretending like she wasn’t just watching you like a hawke.

“d’you think you could help me with this hand? i keep messing up”

and she’s already perching herself on the floor in front of you, pulling you into her lap as she grabs the bottle of nail polish to finish painting them.

she’s a snorer. i’m so sure of it. although i don’t think she snores like in a heavy type of way, but instead she lets out light little grumbles here and there.

i can just picture her, face pressed into the pillow, her cheek smushed against the fabric as she sleeps peacefully. her hair is all over the place and her lips are slightly parted. and then to top it all off, as if she couldn’t be any cuter, she lets out the softest snuffs.

definitely has a scrapbook, shoved somewhere deep into her closet, that her mother gifted her. it’d be filled with several baby pictures and photos/drawings from when she was in grade school, hiding it away because she was unbelievably embarrassed for you to see them.

you remembered when her family visited you both when you had finally settled into your place together, her mom bringing the scrapbook as a housing warming gift of some sorts. caroline immediately tried to tuck it away, but you were more than stubborn and demanded that you sit down and look through it.

it’s still one of your favorite memories. laughing with her parents at all the goofy pictures from when she lost her first teeth, when she won her first hockey trophy, and when she graduated high school. you even loved reading all the poems she wrote in middle school english, loved seeing all the ‘1st place” ribbons that her mom neatly taped to the card-stock pages.

you only got to look at it twice since then, kk utterly miserable whenever it was pulled out, but you cherished those pictures more than anything.

she’s probably such a dad in the sense that she pretends to not care about the cheesy reality tv shows you’re into, but then secretly starts getting hooked on it and makes you record each episode so you can watch it together.

“what do you mean lisa called meredith a ‘garbage whore’?” she gasped, running into the living room with a bowl of popcorn in her hands “wait, wait i told you to pause it! i don’t want to miss it!!”

her favorite place to kiss you is definitely your forehead. sure, she loves kissing you everywhere, but there’s something so intimate to her about small forehead kisses.

she never fails to give you one before you both fall asleep, before you leave for work, when you’re sad and need comforting or when you’re so excited and it’s her way of expressing her support. you’d probably get her kiss mark tattooed there if you could.

she often gets overwhelmed with sports and school and family and all sorts of things. she tends to be reserved with her feelings, but you’re the only person she can genuinely open up to. sometimes she comes home from practice with this look on her face, and you can immediately tell that she’s struggling.

most times she doesn’t even want to talk about it, she just wants you to hold her, run your fingers through her hair and tell her it’s all going to be okay.

and she loves to teach you new things. wether that’s teaching you how to skate, how to cook a family dish she always ate as a kid, or how play the games she learned in elementary school, she just wants you to be involved in everything she loves.

you think you love it more than she does. you’d never get over how excited she gets when you ask if you can help her make that ‘dinner she made one time’ or if she’d tell you a funny story from when she was a rebellious teen.

like that one time you were having lunch in the park one summer, sprawled out on a handmade quit atop the freshly cut grass as you laid side by side. you picked mindlessly at the dandelions beside you as you both chatted about each others day.

“you know i used to make those when i was younger?” she spoke, motioning to the flowering weeds “flower crowns, i mean”

“really?” you smiled “no one ever taught me how, i always wished i could though”

i didn’t take long before she was picking some herself and instructing you on how to tangle them together so easily. she took it as serious as she took hockey, determined to make sure you knew how to make a perfect flower crown. it wasn’t really a big deal to you in the long run, but something so important to her was just as important to you.

NSFW (for realsies this time)

getting straight to the point, i don’t think she’s huge on the strap. don’t get me wrong, you both still use it often, but i think she much prefers eating you out or scissoring.

there’s something about the appeal of physically feeling you on her that makes her crazy, a sensation that beats using the strap any day.

she loves it when you bite her or scratch her. it’s a pleasant mix between pleasure and pain and it’s probably her favorite part of intimacy.

she likes to look in the mirror the next day, just before she gets in the shower, to admire the long red marks that stretch along her back. she often teases you about too, but if you ever stop, she’s guiding your hands to her back again.

she’s not as drawn to the marks that your bites leave as much, instead she loves the feelings. when she’s making you feel so so good, so much that you can barely hold it in anymore, that you have to bite down on her shoulder or her bicep to keep yourself grounded. it’s like an ego boost to her, a sign that she fucks you so good that you can’t even function properly.

she’s cocky in bed, i feel like she’s the type to say:

“yeah baby? feels good huh?”

“come on, speak up, i can’t hear you”

or if you’re on top…

“fuck yeah, just like that, making me feel so good baby. keep going…gonna make me come”

a sucker for praise

she loves when you tell her that she’s going a good job, that’s she’s exceeding your expectations each time. she’s a bit of a perfectionist and an over achiever that way, but hey, you’re not one to complain.

whilst she loves fancy lingerie and nice dresses, she folds for you even when you’re in sweats and one of her t shirts.

“really? right now?” you huff as her hands dance up your shirt, massaging your tits roughly. she’s kissing up your neck painfully slow and you can’t help but wonder what’s gotten her so worked up “i look like shit”

“are you kidding?” she scoffs “i’d fuck the shit out of you no matter what you’re wearing, you look so sexy even in this”

i’m a firm believer (maybe this is a self insert but idc!!) that she appreciates all body types, especially a chubbier figure. like she’s absolutely obsessed with your pudgy tummy and your thick thighs, a sucker for how plush and soft your body is. don’t even get her started on those stretch marks of yours…

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t struggle with your body image often, but you never had to be insecure for long when caroline walked into your life. she seized every opportunity to make you see what she saw in you, willing to do whatever it took to prove to you that she loved your body.

“shit, look at you” she moaned, smirking as she watched you on top of her, grinding your wet pussies together. her hands gripped feverishly at your hips, often wandering down to squeeze your thighs. her hands were all over you the entire time, letting you know that she loves every inch of you “so pretty on top of me, i’ll never get sick of lookin’ at you, got it?”

[cvnt4him]

okay, how do we feel on squirting on izuku? hear me out now—

UA dorms, 3rd year, everyone is 18+!!!!!

you and izuku are having a midnight fuck sesh cause it’s quite literally the ONLY time y’all get to be sexually intimate so things are REALLY hot & heavy. I’m talkin’ like having to hold in moans to not wake your neighbors up, the bed is creaking, you had to put a pillow in between the headboard because it was making too much noise, sweating everywhere and izuku has to keep making out with you so y’all can get your moans out quietly!! 🫣

and all of a sudden after izuku moves his hips slightly, you just start squirting EVERYWHERE, like your soaking his bed and you have to moan into a pillow cause it felt so good 😵‍💫

“Did…Did i make you…?”

“..yes…yes you..did..haa..”

“Can i..keep going?I-I haven’t came yet..”

“Yes baby, please keep fucking me…!”

and then just proceeds to overstimulate you while your whining and moaning into his mouth and scratching on his back.

do what you will with this information 🥸

-🩸

I kinda free balled even though you literally told me what you wanted lol, I hope this is to your liking my loveᡣ𐭩

It was after midnight, you were at least sure all of your dorm neighbors were lying down if not asleep by the time you went over to izukus dorm.

You and your boyfriend haven't been able to explore each other's body in so long given you're in your last year of highschool which means not only will things become more advanced but you have even less time to get all of the things done. With all the stress of colleges and your futures taking over your brains you two only had time to text each other 'good morning' 'goodnight' and 'I love you'

It hurt you but none of that mattered anymore, you were finally in your boyfriend's arms after so long. This was the only time you two had together let alone to be intimate with one another you had to take advantage of it.

Izuku had your face shoved into the pillows and your back arched painfully you can hear him groaning above you, his eyes squeezed shut as he slammed his cock inside of you repeatedly.

His thick cock forcing its way into your gushing pussy. The way you squeezed around him had his head rolling back he couldn't take it. He'd already cum inside of you about 2 times given how long it's been since he'd felt your tight wet walls, the thought of them alone had him busting a nut.

You heard his gutteral moans being hushed by his face being buried in your shoulders he began biting them harshly causing you to scream into the pillows, luckily for you they were quite scream proof izuku made sure of that when he bought them.

“ ....ohh...~ you sweet thing... ngh- need it s’bad huh? hmmn. c'mon cum in my cock baby..”

The way he whispered in your ear, so dirty yet so sweet. He was never rough with you but he couldn't help himself fucking you as if you're some cheap fleshlight he needed all that he could take. His hands coming down to harshly grip the flesh of your ass before slapping it making your back arch and your ass grind back onto his cock.

He loved the feeling of you fucking him back, throwing your ass back onto his cock while he tried shoving it deeper inside. The bed creaking with each rough motion of you thrusting back against him, izuku groans at the sticky sounds of the two of you thinking he should've put a pillow behind his headboard someone was definitely going to complain!

“ ngh..! give it t’me, give it t’me zuku— need it s’bad- ugh...”

Your words were coming out muffled and sloppy you were losing your mind with how sensitive you were, you'd come so many times its as if it was happening all on its own. You couldn't control it anymore letting him split you in half on his cock while you lost your mind.

“ let me.....huff....let me flip you over baby.. wanna look at’cha when I fuck you.”

You hum and with that he pulled out causing you to whine, he instantly flipped you over into your back to get a good look at your soiled face. Tears streaming down and spit down your jaw, your eyes were glossy and you could hardly see all you wanted was to hold your strong boyfriend.

You heard him shakily sigh above you, lining his sticky and cum covered cock back up with your dripping cunt, cum leaking out of it and creating a ring around his cock as he quickly shoved it in causing you to jolt upward into him, he instantly leaned down and held you locking lips with you to sustain your whine and moans you were shaking in his arms and your spit was slowly leaking down both your chins.

Izuku sat inside of you for a moment letting you convulse around his cock, this was more for him than it was for you. The feeling of your nasty icky cunt spasming around his twitching veiny cock had his mind melting just as much as yours. He was trying his hardest not to fall apart inside of you but God was it hard with you squeezing him tighter than anything he's ever had.

Izuku gulped down hardly and slowly jerked his hips up into you there was something inside of you, a coil that just snapped your head was thrown back and you couldn't help but to moan aloud izuku was too late to catch it pitchy moans echoing through his room you had started squirting all over his cock your eyes were rolling and your mind was completely blank.

Izuku was in utter awe with you, gasping lightly as his cock only began plugging you deeper with how thick it was, your juices were spraying all over his abdomen and his bed you would be embarrassed if you were coherent and understood what was going on around you. Izuku rubbed your thigh and cooed sweet words to you telling you how proud of you he was.

“ awh honey.... m’ so proud of you baby, did so good f’me.”

“ do...do you want me to keep going...? can I? I wanna cum again...”

You nod your head at his words hardly even understanding any of them. With that he took all that he had and began thrusting into you once more, not as rough as he once was but just enough to get him there and to have you squealing into his chest tears wetting him as your body rocks with his arms wrapping around his back and scratching his back harshly.

His back arched into you a wince leaving him as he sped up, hips stuttering into yours. The nasty slaps of skin filling the air along with your hiccups and moans and his low groans. The bed creaking faster with his movements.

“ sh...shit baby..! m’gna cum inside of you... fuck-!”

Giving it all he could with a couple sloppy messy thrusts, he came inside of you hard and deep. His moans turned into high pitched whines his cock was twitching so much and you were squeezing him so tightly after he'd already cum he couldn't help squeezing your hips tightly making you wince and squirm.

You felt his shaky breath fan over your neck as your face was buried in his chest drool getting all over him as he just collapsed on top of you not even bothering to pull out. His poor cock was too thick for you to push out so you just sat there plugged and fucked full of cum.

The next day you were both told by your teacher that izuku had many complaints from his neighbors due to loud squeaking that sounded as if someone was being murdered. You both had detention for the rest of the year and were BANNED from going near each other's dorm and would be kicked out of U.A if caught in the other's room.

Was it truly worth it....

[littlelamy]

hii i was the one who sent u the s2!soft!rafe request! i have another one where reader begs s2!rafe to let her ride him and take dominance for one and he finally gives in. she starts to get tired quickly though and he notices but she tries to brush it off until she can’t anymore and she wants him to help her and take control again. at first hes a little snarky but he soon switches to soft!rafe. and can you add aftercare afterwards? i def feel like rafe would praise her NONSTOP and not use words like slut or degrade her in anyway. during and after

author's note: closing the day with this final post! 🙌🥰 i hope you like it. thank you so so for the request! 💗🌟

rafe lay sprawled on his back, shirtless and gorgeous, the dim light casting shadows over the hard lines of his chest. you straddled his lap, your hands splayed over his stomach, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. his usual confidence was on full display, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as he watched you with hooded eyes, his cock hard and pulsing beneath you, pressing insistently against your slick pussy.

“you sure you can handle it?” his voice was low, teasing, as he trailed his fingers up your thighs, making you shiver. “i don’t know if you’ve got it in you, babe.”

you bit your lip, determination flaring in your eyes as you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his jaw, then his neck, savoring the way his breath hitched just a little. “i can handle it,” you murmured against his skin. “let me take the reins for once.”

his eyes flickered with something unspoken, and for a moment, he just stared at you, a smirk still tugging at the corners of his mouth. “alright,” he finally relented, voice softening as his hands settled on your hips, guiding you closer. “show me what you’ve got.”

you couldn’t help but grin, triumph bubbling in your chest as you positioned yourself over him, lining up his thick cock with your entrance. slowly, you sank down, inch by inch, your walls stretching to accommodate him, a gasp escaping your lips as he filled you. rafe groaned, his fingers tightening on your hips, but he didn’t move, letting you set the pace.

slowly, you began to move, rolling your hips in a rhythm that sent sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. rafe’s hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve, his eyes drinking in the sight of you on top of him, the way your head tilted back, the soft moans spilling from your lips as his cock stretched you so perfectly.

“fuck,” he muttered, the cockiness in his voice giving way to something more raw, more real. “you look so good like this.”

you rode him with everything you had, desperate to prove yourself, to take control just this once. your pussy gripped his cock, wet and tight, every movement making you both moan. but as the minutes passed, your legs began to tremble, exhaustion creeping in. you tried to push through, biting back the fatigue, but rafe wasn’t oblivious. his hands stilled on your waist, eyes narrowing as he studied you.

“you okay?” his voice was gentle, concern lacing the edges as he sat up slightly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“i’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile as you continued to move, though your pace faltered. “just... a little tired.”

rafe’s smirk returned, but it was softer now, less teasing. “a little tired, huh?” he teased lightly, his hands flexing against your skin. “you’ve got that look like you’re about to collapse.”

“no,” you protested weakly, trying to keep the momentum, but your legs gave a small tremor, your strength waning. “i can keep going.”

his eyes softened, the cocky exterior melting away completely as he leaned up, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss. “you don’t have to, baby,” he murmured against your mouth. “let me take over.”

you sighed, a mix of relief and frustration, but when his arms wrapped around you, pulling you down against his chest, it was impossible to resist. “okay,” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as he shifted, flipping you both over with ease.

he settled between your legs, pressing you into the mattress, his eyes filled with a tender kind of heat as he thrust into you, slow and deliberate. “there you go,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your forehead. “let me take care of you.”

every movement was unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to worship you, to draw out every sound of pleasure from your lips. his hands roamed over your body, caressing, soothing, as he drove you higher and higher, his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy with a deliberate rhythm, stretching you perfectly.

“you’re doing so good,” he whispered, his voice a gentle caress in your ear. “so perfect. i’ve got you.”

his thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles that made you gasp, your pussy clenching around his cock as he thrust deeper. “you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, kissing your neck, your jaw, your lips. “every part of you.”

you moaned, arching beneath him as the pleasure built, your legs trembling as his cock filled you over and over. the tension coiled in your belly, and when your orgasm finally hit, it crashed over you in waves, your pussy spasming around his cock as you squirted, soaking him in your release.

“that’s it,” rafe groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release. “fuck, you’re so good for me.”

he came with a deep, guttural moan, his cock pulsing inside you, filling you with his warmth. he stayed there, buried deep, holding you close as your breathing slowed, your body melting into his.

afterwards, he didn’t pull away. instead, he stayed wrapped around you, pressing soft kisses to your hair, your temple, your cheek. “you were amazing,” he murmured, his fingers brushing tenderly over your back. “so perfect, baby.”

you nestled closer, a sleepy smile on your lips as he continued to shower you with praise, his voice a soothing balm. “i’m so proud of you,” he whispered, his hands never ceasing their gentle caresses. “you’re everything, you know that?”

after a moment, he shifted, pulling you closer as he eased you onto your side. “let’s get you cleaned up,” he said softly, brushing a kiss against your temple. “you deserve to relax.”

he slipped out of bed, wrapping you in a soft blanket before lifting you effortlessly in his arms. he carried you to the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the air as he started a warm bath. he set you down gently, his hands tender as he helped you undress the rest of the way, every touch reverent, unhurried.

once the bath was ready, he guided you in, the heat soothing your sore muscles. rafe knelt beside the tub, a washcloth in hand as he gently cleaned you, his eyes never leaving yours. “feel good?” he asked, a soft smile playing on his lips.

you nodded, sinking deeper into the water, letting the warmth and his touch lull you into a state of bliss. rafe took his time, washing every inch of you with care, his fingers gentle as they worked through your hair, massaging your scalp.

when you were clean and relaxed, he helped you out of the tub, wrapping you in a fluffy towel. he dried you off carefully, his hands lingering on your skin, his gaze filled with nothing but love. he led you back to the bed, tucking you in with the same tenderness, climbing in beside you and pulling you into his arms.

“you were perfect,” he whispered again, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “my perfect girl.”

you sighed contentedly, nuzzling into his chest as his hands rubbed soothing circles on your back. every word, every touch was a reminder of just how cherished you were, rafe’s adoration wrapping around you like a soft, comforting blanket as you drifted off in his arms, completely sated, completely loved.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah

[cherry-hulu]

greetings...i respectfully would like to place down my 2 cents for diamond life

reader is hard at work under the desk in woozi's studio, whenever a member-specifically shua and minghao or honestly whichever member wants to blow off some steam while recording, all woozi has to do is pull them off him, hold them by the hair and let said member go nuts...the sadists that they are 🤐

— Accelerando!

Warnings: woozi x free use!reader x joshua x the8, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), tears, gagging, lots of cum, voyeurism, filming

More like this... Diamond Life : The Series

Recordings can either be the smoothest sailing days or the harshest battles against the flow. Sometimes it would be over in a few hours, sometimes it could take up the whole day.

When the members said Woozi practically lived in his Universe Factory, they meant in. He even had his own foldable bed in it and everything. All his amenities at one place for his comfort.

Out of all the members, Woozi would argue that he benefited from you the most. He had always loved the idea of cockwarming, especially while he worked on his chair. The idea of someone keeping his cock warm and hard while he made music was magical.

You sat under his desk, legs crossed, eyes closed, head resting on his hard muscle packed thigh, mouth occupied with his heavy thick dick in your mouth. You may seem at rest but your tongue definitely wasn't. Occasionally moving, licking the veins from the sides of his cock. Throat constricting at carefully calculated times.

"Lets do one more run towards the end. I wasn't satisfied with the last part, I think both of you can do more." Woozi spoke, his fingers pressing on the button talking to Joshua and Minghao who was in the booth recording for a duet.

Minghao sighed and nodded, Joshua just held his headphones in understanding. The two calmest members of the group, but the last person they'd want to piss off. An enigma of the saying 'The calm before the storm.'

The two went for a few more rounds in the studio, before slowly, the frustration started creeping in, tension building up in the booth until it was showing in their voices.

Truth is, Woozi was doing this on purpose, he believes that there's no better view than you choking and crying on a dick. He would always do it to you, loving the bulge his cock would imprint on your throat, the way your glassy eyes look up at him showing no signs of thinking, completely dumb and cock drunk.

As much as he loves seeing it in first person, he can't help but wonder what it'd look like in second. The boys really have spending alot more time together, Seungkwan's enthusiasm over exhibitionism was starting to get to him.

"Hyung.. I don't think I can do it anymore, it's getting overwhelming. We've been here for hours repeating the same line over and over again. I need a break." Minghao complained, ever so well thought out and collected, but his body language says otherwise. He looked stiff, eyes tired and basically begging for rest.

"I agree, I think it would be better for us to have a break and recollect ourselves, maybe it's the exhaustion that's causing the bad outcomes." Joshua nodded, looking back and forth between his friends.

You open your eyes at the sound of their voice, looking up to Woozi with a hopeful look. He told you of his plans asking for consent, and you eagerly nodded not even a second after the words left his mouth making him chuckle and call you a slut.. which you ultimately got heated up over, and no, you didn't beat him to death, but your pussy may say otherwise.

The pale man was silent for a minute as if he was thinking, before ultimately agreeing and letting the boys out. As the duo leave the booth, Woozi pulls his dick out of your mouth making your saliva drip all over the floor and off his dick.

Rolling his chair to the side, he reveals you to the boys, looking pretty all wet and open wide for the two. "It would be better for you two to release your frustrations rather than have them bottled up, 'no?" Woozi said, dick standing up and and as proud as himself for his plan execution.

"Yeah, definitely." Joshua sighed, pulling his dick out of his pants, getting harder and harder each passing second as you crawl on your fours to get to him. He gives his dick a few strokes before shoving himself in all the way in your mouth.

Joshua, Seventeen's Gentleman, was nothing like the man the public perceives of him. He was anything but gentle, always leaving you bruised and nearly unconscious after fucking you. Cuffing you down, pressing you hard against the bed, everything but being gentle.

Minghao was silent, but he wasn't non threatening, situating himself behind you, his focus immediately zeroed in on your exposed cunt. You were wearing only a thin oversized shirt — probably from Mingyu — and nothing else. What was the point of wearing under wear when it's just gonna be put aside anyways?

The chinese man was known for his relentless and often unfiltered mouth. He wasn't any different in sex, seemingly having developed an oral fixation on your pussy, always eating you out whenever given the chance to. He usually starts off slow, before adding his fingers, and going feral using you.

Your whimpers were muffled by the dick inside your mouth, heavy and big. Joshua surprisingly was starting off slow as well, probably due to the younger kneeling behind you. But his pace doesn't stop him from going rough. Giving you deep, hard thrusts, that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Tears were already rolling of your face, muted gagging sounds emmited from you as he sensually fucked your mouth as if it was your cunt.

Woozi felt like he was in a real life porno. Sitting like a king in his chair with his legs in a manspread, slowly jerking off his hard on. From his perspective, the bulge on your mouth was extremely evident. Him and Joshua were pretty similar in girth, having only an inch difference in length.

From behind you, Minghao was finally starting to quicken his pace. Slender fingers now toying with your cunt, tongue lapping and licking all over you resulting in nasty slurping sounds. He didn't knew whose cum was mixxed with yours, but whoever it was, his diet must be healthy for it to taste this good. Or maybe it was just your magic.

His tongue slides in and out of you, practically cleaning you up to get you ready for a fresh new batch of cum inside of you.

Joshua was now collecting your hair and putting it up in a pony tail, his big hands giving him no struggle with the task. You mentally prepare yourself as this was his ritual before losing all his mercy on you. He groaned as he gives you a deep hard thrust, before pulling out and pushing back in, this time with a much faster, deeper, pace.

Minghao moves his face away from your cunt, opting to finger you instead. His dick was getting painfully hard, having been ignored for too long. His patience runs thin when he's horny.

Finally taking his dick out, he pushes in inside of you, immediately matching with his hyungs pace in a way that he was in fucking into you at the same time Joshua was. Two dicks pressing deeply inside of you at the same time, at the same intervals.

You sounded and looked like a mess. Torn between gagging and moaning. Your face was flushed, full on crying now. Had it not been for Joshua in front of you, your face would be on the floor planted flat right now.

Woozi was shamelessly jerking off while watching the whole thing. His mind has orchestrated alot of masterpieces throughout his life, this was no doubt one of them.

"Agh.. fuck." Joshua strangled out as he came in your mouth, forcing your face into his dick, nose pressing against his pelvis. He was a heavy heavy cummer, emphasize on heavy if it hadn't been yet. Always leaving you full or choking even more on his cum, not just his dick.

Sweat was dripping of his forehead as he look down on you, panting with veins visible all over his arms and face. "Good girl, good job. Take it all. All of it." Joshua praised in a husky voice, clearly worn out from todays activities. But no matter how tired he was, he would never pass out on your hole.

Minghao followed soon after, filling up your other hole with his own cum. He rocks his hip back and forth into you creating a ring of cum around his dick. "Hyung.. look at this." Minghao called out, eyes focused on where the two of you connect.

It was all Woozi needed for him to cum as well. Cursing under his breath as a string of cum spurts out his dick, landing all over his chair, shirt, and even on the floor.

Joshua reached out to his back pocket for his phone. Opening the camera, he hit the record button making surs to catch your face in the frame.

Slowly, he pulled his dick out of you, a flow of his cum dripping out of your mouth. You were panting like a dog, eyes blown out, all fucked out to realize that there was a camera in front of you. Joshua pressed a thumb on your tongue, prompting you to open up more.

He dragged his thumb from your tongue to your lip, spreading cum all over. Angling his phone to where it catches the both of you, he pulled you into a kiss, tasting and cleaning his cum from your mouth. Tongues lapping all over each other, dirty sounds coming from the two of you. Alternating between open mouth kisses to French kissing.

"Fuck, hyung." Minghao whispered when he felt his dick getting hard again. Looks like it won't be just the three of them who'll be working hard in the studio today.

[21280]

warnings for fem! reader, street interviewer jiji. quick blurb, srry!

we know jiji is a social butterfly, so i think he'd absolutely rock being a street interviewer. think of tokyo sims, except it's just a one man show, and it's jiji trying to pick up girls and (for once in his life) failing horribly.

jiji is tremendously hot, but only to the teenagers that surround him. in a high school setting, one is more likely to fall for someone who they're around constantly, or, settle for finding the 'school hottie' in order to survive the semester. outside of school, though, jiji is a hottie, in an intense competitive market of hotties.

he starts off with okarun's help, with him being his cameraman. his charisma is insane, and he picks up a following quickly. the people he interviews (which 9 times out of 10 it's women) find him quite odd and subtly laugh as his attempts to flirt, yet let him down nicely. his comments are filled with messages like "i wish i would encounter him irl" or "why is he always getting rejected is this scripted?? he's so cute"

except for one comment. yours. scrolling through your for you page, you find one of his interviews in which he asks a girl if she had ever been cheated on, with her saying yes. jiji goes onto this monologue about how he wouldn't, and asking for her number in the process. and he succeeds! for the first time. so you type out a comment.

"good luck girl, he looks like he ain't even allat 😭😭"

and waking up to around 50 comments proving you otherwise, you also find a dm. it's from jiji's personal, private account, who sent you your comment with a "wym i look like not allat lemme show u" and it leads to your first internet friend, jin enjoji.

and he suggests a date to prove you wrong. with his newfound fame, he's also found some cash that could definitely be spent on you. his words. you decline, because you're not easily moved by material goods. so he suggests you pick an activity, because congratulations! you officially piqued jiji's interest, and have him never asking another woman for her number in an interview again.

and his fans notice it way too quickly. they saw him at a park with 'some really pretty woman' and, since he's not too famous, decided to call it a day, no photographs or anything. but his comments were switching up, saying "why isn't he asking for numbers anymore" or "flirty jiji we miss you!!!"

but jiji is on a mission: to be yours, and yours only. because as much as he is a flirt, he's never been one for easy love. it would take months of him begging and scheming for him to finally ask to be your boyfriend, and for you to say yes. because you denied his other attempts before. he pops the question during a quiet (?) cooking date at his place, where he and you attempt to cook steak.

on his next street interview, people can hear a slight giggle from the camera as he asks questions to another girl, and in his caption, it reads: "got another cameraman so she can see i'm loyal" and it has fans questioning who the lucky lady is. unfortunately for them, only the interviewees can see who you are, because jiji absolutely cannot zip his mouth shut when it comes to bragging about you.

[evergumi]

M. FUSHIGURO ⋆ no more running.

pairing ⋆ guilty!megumi fushiguro x reader

summary ⋆ megumi cant be close to you anymore at all. hes avoiding you, and you dont know why. it hurts. missing your friendship, you are determined to find out why hes doing this.. ending in a unique relationship

warnings ⋆ fluff, fluff, fluff !! one sooort of spicy kiss heh :P also lowkey angsty.. poor gumi thinks hes hurt you but you prove him wrong ! we love y/n <3

wc ⋆ 2.56k words

a/n ⋆ awww the cuties ! i love gumi sm omg my adorable boyfieee, anyways enjoy ! i lowkey dont like this buttt :((

the warm glow of the setting sun stretched across the training grounds as you and nobara exchanged quick strikes, the air sharp with the rhythm of your sparring. you moved effortlessly, feeling the rush of energy, but something in the corner of your vision caught your attention. megumi stood at the edge of the field, his posture tense, eyes fixed on you. you knew exactly where his gaze was: the scar on your neck, a permanent reminder of that day.

you couldn’t help the tightness in your chest. you’d never asked him about it, never pushed him, but you knew it weighed on him—that day. the day he was trapped inside his own body. the day he killed two people he cared about the most. the day he hurt you.

"hey, fushiguro," you called out, your voice light, teasing, but there was an edge to it that betrayed your curiosity. you paused mid-motion, turning toward him with a grin as nobara glanced at you knowingly, heading toward her water bottle where yuji was standing. "wanna spar?"

for a moment, megumi didn’t respond. his eyes stayed on you, but they were unreadable, heavy. his jaw clenched. when he finally spoke, his words were quiet. "no thanks," he muttered, his gaze flickering to the scar on your neck, then quickly darting away. "i’m… busy."

you bit your lip, sensing the guilt in his tone. it was almost like he was afraid to be near you, and that stung more than you expected. he’d been distant these past few days, but maybe it was just a one-time thing. maybe he really was busy. you smiled, brushing it off.

"busy with what?" you asked softly, the teasing edge in your voice. "you don’t seem to be occupied, fushi."

"with—uh. itadori. me and itadori were heading to the… uh… store," he mumbled, looking anywhere but at you.

you frowned, your eyes shifting to where yuji was chatting with nobara, totally unaware of the tension between you and megumi. he was holding out a towel for her, laughing as she tossed her empty water bottle at his head. you smiled softly at the sight but then turned back to megumi.

"yuji… seems busy with his own things," you murmured, watching him shift under your gaze. his eyes avoided yours, and you couldn’t help but notice the bead of sweat rolling down his temple. maybe it was just sixteen-year-old-boy things, you thought, trying to convince yourself. but it still stung a little.

"oi! itadori! get the hell over here!" megumi called out, his voice rough, as if he couldn’t get away fast enough. yuji scrambled over with a pout, and megumi grabbed him by the collar, pulling him along hurriedly as they left.

you frowned after them, a strange mix of confusion and something else stirring in your chest. why was he avoiding you? why did it feel like he was running away from something that had nothing to do with the store?

this wouldn’t be the last time. over the next few days, you’d start to notice little things. his avoidance grew clearer. texts would go unanswered for hours, or when they were answered, they felt curt. and every time you tried to ask him to hang out, there was always an excuse.

you decided to reach out again, despite the growing frustration in your chest.

you hey fushiguro! wanna hang out today? maybe watch tangled in my dorm for the millionth time?

you smirked to yourself. tangled was your favorite movie, and you knew megumi wouldn’t be able to resist.

megumi can't, got stuff to do. sorry.

you frowned at your screen, your grip tightening imperceptibly, your smile fading.

you oh, okay. well, tell me if you change your mind!

megumi yeah, sure. maybe.

you stared at the message for a while, the vague response gnawing at you. megumi had always been blunt, but he never seemed to shy away from hanging out before. so why now? what was he busy with?

you walked to the dojo early, hoping to catch megumi before his training session. as you approached, you saw him deep in conversation with yuji and nobara, laughing about something—you couldn’t hear exactly what, but their laughter seemed genuine. when you stepped into the room, the conversation stilled for a moment.

megumi didn’t turn to greet you. he just nodded quickly, his eyes darting back to the floor. yuji, on the other hand, waved at you, totally oblivious to the tension.

"hey, you finally here?" yuji grinned. "we’re just talking about our next mission."

"yeah…" you said softly, but your eyes flickered back to megumi. "hey, fushi, wanna train?"

he hesitated. too long of a hesitation. then, he mumbled something you couldn’t quite catch.

"um, maybe later. i think i have a… thing," he said, trailing off before turning back to yuji.

your heart sank. thing? was he just brushing you off again?

you hey. you still up for tangled? we don’t have to do that if you're not comfortable, of course! i just want to hang out.

megumi no, sorry.

you oh. okay, ig.

megumi sorry. just been busy. i didn’t mean to make it awkward.

you it’s fine. just… if you don’t want to talk, it’s okay. no need to make excuses.

you stared at the messages for a long time. the words felt like a punch to the gut, but at the same time, they made your chest ache. what did you even do? was he avoiding you because of that day? the day when he hurt you? was he punishing himself for it? or was he just… shutting you out?

you walked down the hallway toward the dorms after sparring, your body still buzzing from the fight. nobara had gone off to take a shower, and yuji was probably somewhere being loud, as usual. but tonight, something felt different. you couldn’t shake the feeling that megumi had been avoiding you more than usual.

as you passed the common area, you noticed the dim light spilling from the small courtyard outside. curiosity pulled you in that direction. the quiet night was starting to settle, and everyone else was winding down. there, leaning against the stone wall of the courtyard, stood megumi.

he didn’t notice you at first. his shoulders were tense, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and his gaze was lost in the shadows. he looked almost… distant, like he was trying to escape from something. but you knew—you knew—he wasn’t running from the world outside. he was running from you.

you paused for a moment, your thoughts racing. then, despite every instinct telling you to leave it alone, you stepped forward. gravel crunched softly beneath your shoes as you approached.

"fushiguro," you called, your voice cutting through the stillness of the night.

he flinched like your words had startled him. slowly, he turned his head, but not enough to meet your gaze right away. his eyes lingered on the ground, and when they finally lifted, they didn’t seem to focus on you. they flicked up, then down again.

"hey," you said again, trying to keep your voice steady. but there was something shaky in it you couldn’t hide. "are you gonna keep avoiding me?"

there was a long silence. then, he spoke. his voice was low, strained. "i'm not avoiding you."

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "really? 'cause it sure seems like you are."

megumi shifted uncomfortably against the wall, his gaze drifting away again. "it’s not like that."

you could feel your frustration building. every time you tried to reach him, he shut you out. you stepped closer, standing just a few feet away. your voice grew sharp.

"then what is it? why do you keep pushing me away?"

he hesitated, his jaw tightening, then finally met your eyes. guilt and something darker swirled in his expression. the same guilt he’d been carrying since that day. the day he hurt you.

"come on, fushiguro! this is stupid! why are you doing this? don’t you realize it hurts me?" your voice rose, frustration spilling over.

his gaze flickered to your neck, the scar still fresh, and for a moment, it looked like he might say something. but instead, he stepped back, his shoulders tensing.

"god, just—just shut up!" he hissed.

you stopped talking immediately. the words stuck in your throat.

"don’t you realize? i can’t do this anymore!" he exploded, his eyes wild with frustration. "i can’t just—just watch you knowing what i did!"

and in that moment, you knew. he wasn’t just avoiding you. he was fighting something inside himself.

you took a deep breath, stepping forward, your pulse quickening. "fushiguro… i…"

but before you could say anything else, he was already walking away, his steps quick and purposeful. leaving you standing in the cold silence.

you stood there, the words still hanging between you, unspoken, unanswered.

and then you moved.

one step, then another, quickening your pace until you were right behind him, fingers brushing against his shoulder.

"don’t touch me!" he snapped.

you recoiled, hurt flashing across your face. so, he had yelled not once, not twice—but now three times. at you. you couldn't breathe, the question on your lips strangled by confusion and pain.

"what did i do wrong?" you whispered, almost to yourself.

megumi glanced away, a sharp look of anguish in his eyes. "i can’t. i can’t do it. i can’t come near you, talk to you, touch you, look at you."

you frowned up at him, confused. "can’t do… why?"

"i can’t go a day without thinking about what i did to you!" he hissed, voice breaking. "i see that scar, and i beat myself up over it. i… i can’t look at it. i can’t even spar with you. i can't… even stand my hand being this close to yours."

without thinking, you reached out, gently taking his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. you looked him in the eyes, your gaze tender. "look," you murmured, cupping his calloused hand with your own. "is this hurting me in any way?"

he didn’t answer.

you brought his hand to your face, cupping your cheek with it. "am i hurt?" you whispered, eyes closing for a moment, savoring the warmth of his touch. you felt his thumb twitch as it brushed against your skin. you leaned into it, your breath catching. "am i hurt, fushiguro?"

you stood there, the weight of his hand in yours grounding you, as the silence stretched between you. his thumb brushed against your scar, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles were taut as if he were about to break. you could see the guilt clouding his eyes—heavy, suffocating. you knew what he was thinking. he was terrified.

"you're not hurting me," you whispered, your voice quiet but steady. you brought his hand to your cheek, pressing it gently against your skin. "see? you're not hurting me, megumi."

he didn’t say anything at first, but his breath hitched at the touch. his eyes flickered between yours, searching for something—maybe an answer, maybe reassurance. his thumb gently caressed your jaw, and you felt your heart race in your chest.

he opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. instead, his gaze shifted to your neck—the scar that was still so fresh, the scar he couldn't bring himself to look at. you watched his jaw tighten, his gaze drifting downward like it always did when he was avoiding something he couldn’t confront.

you took a small step closer, your fingers brushing over the back of his hand, encouraging him, urging him to let go. "megumi," you whispered again, this time a little more gently, "please… look at me."

his chest rose and fell with every shaky breath, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to pull away. but he didn’t. he stayed, standing there in the quiet of the night, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

slowly, carefully, his hand moved to your neck. his thumb brushed lightly over your scar, and you could feel him flinch, just a little. but then he stopped, his hand hovering over your skin, like he was afraid to touch it too much. you gently guided his fingers down your neck, showing him that you weren’t afraid.

"megumi," you whispered, your voice softer this time, "i’m not afraid."

his gaze finally met yours, and you saw it—the hesitation, the guilt, the regret all etched in his features. but underneath all of that, you saw something else, something raw and vulnerable that made your heart ache.

"i’m so sorry," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "i can't… i can’t stand seeing it. what i did to you…"

you shook your head, a small smile forming on your lips. "megumi, you’re not the only one hurting. but i’m not afraid of you. i never was. i never will be."

he swallowed, his hand trembling in yours. he was close enough now that you could feel the warmth of his breath, could hear the soft hitch of his breath as his eyes flickered down to your lips.

you closed the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest as you lifted your other hand to his face, cupping it gently. "look at me," you whispered again, your voice barely audible. "please."

he did. and when his eyes met yours, everything else seemed to fade away. there were no more words, no more hesitation. just the soft, steady rhythm of your breaths as your faces inched closer.

he leaned in, your lips brushing against his. it was tentative at first, just the barest of touches, as if he were still afraid that he might hurt you. but when you didn’t pull away, when you leaned into him, the kiss deepened. his hand found the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his other hand sliding to your waist, holding you as if you might disappear.

you let out a soft gasp as you melted into him, the kiss growing more urgent, more desperate, as if you both needed this, needed to feel the connection, to feel the warmth of each other’s presence after so much distance. his lips were soft against yours, and you could taste the mixture of fear and longing that had been building between you for days.

when you finally pulled away, breathless, you rested your forehead against his, your heart still racing in your chest. you could feel his pulse under your fingertips, his breathing shallow as he tried to steady himself.

"megumi," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. "you’re not the only one who’s been hurting. but i’m here. i’m not going anywhere."

his eyes were wide, almost searching, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. his thumb gently traced your jaw, his touch tender now, as if he were finally allowing himself to feel what had been building inside of him.

"i’m sorry," he whispered again, his voice cracking with emotion. "i didn’t want to hurt you. i don’t ever want to hurt you again."

you smiled softly, bringing your hand to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. "you won’t," you said simply. "i'll say it again. i’m not afraid of you, megumi. i never was."

the tension between you had finally broken. and in its place was something deeper—something real, something raw. you didn’t need words anymore. all you needed was him, and you knew, in that moment, that he needed you too.

a/n ⋆ nonnie ! ty for this req, this was so fun to write ! i honestly had trouble at the start butttttt omg the fluffy moments near the end made my heart melttt <33 i hope this was what you were looking for !

i heart the way megumi cares soooo much for yn but just wont admit it :( he literally says it but so indirectly yk ?? like he toooootally doesnt care..

thank you for reading, ily ! lmk if you wanna be tagged and remember, reqs are always open loves !

© evergumi

[lottins-only]

THE STARS ALIGNED, THEY LED ME TO YOU | Jude Bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

word count: 5.4k

summary: jude starts his 2025 with a quiet morning walk to his favorite cafe. on that new year's day, his horoscope leads him to someone very special. as the year unfolds, the stars continue to chart his path, marking important relationship milestones and memories

warnings: smut

A/N: had this idea for quite a while and it was fun to write! let me know what you guys think :)

I.

january 1, 2025 - cancer, today is all about partnerships and fated meetings. keep an eye out for new connections that could change your life, and all things green. yes, green. 🍀

jude squints at his phone.

he’d downloaded an astrology app as a joke a while back, roped into it by a friend who was one of those people who took astrology really, really seriously. it was all rubbish of course. but for some inexplicable reason, he hasn’t deleted the app yet. maybe it was out of curiosity, or maybe just the fact that he liked having something to chuckle at during breakfast.

this morning, jude doesn’t feel like laughing at all. he groans as he shoves his phone into his pocket, wincing at the dull ache in his head. last night’s champagne had been a mistake. or maybe it was the tequila shots that came after. he wasn’t sure anymore. either way, he was paying for it now. the cold january air didn’t help much either, biting at his skin even through his oversized hoodie and thick sweatpants.

on early mornings during his off days, he liked walking inside the gated community he lived in. sometimes, he even dared to walk beyond the gates, wandering the streets of madrid where he's rarely afforded anonymity. he had a set route, a memorized path that despite technically being habitual by now felt like an escape from the sometimes drab routine of his daily life. occasionally, he'd stop at a small cafe nearby, ordering a small coffee to go. he had an unspoken agreement with the barista on shift during those early morning hours: no acknowledgment of who he was, no whispered recognition in front of the other patrons. or maybe he was overthinking it and the barista had no idea who he was at all. who knows.

he tugs the hood further down over his face, adjusting his headphones and the mask he wore to keep from being recognized. not that he expected to see many people out this early on new year’s day, anyway. there were only the party survivors, disheveled and stumbling back home. no time for them to notice any lone, wandering footballers.

when he eventually reaches and walks inside the cafe, he's not surprised to see that there's less people than usual. just a young couple in party clothes, bleary eyes and sharing a croissant.

he orders his usual, headphones still blasting music, and lingers by the counter as he waits. his eyes do wander though, and he notices a lone figure sitting by the window, her back facing him. his eyes are immediately drawn to the oversized bow in her hair. the bow is bright yellow, a contrast to the muted tones of the cafe.

he finds himself staring, wondering what pressing matter would have someone typing frantically into their laptop on new years day in a near deserted cafe. he watches her, all social awareness seemingly fleeing his mind.

that is, until the girl suddenly turns and gets up. his eyes snap away immediately, and he pretends to be busy with his phone as she walks up to the same counter he's standing by. it strikes him that it would be more awkward if he pretends not to have been looking at her, especially if she'd somehow noticed. so he looks up from his phone and catches her gaze.

the second thing he notices about her, besides the bow, is how strikingly pretty she is. deep brown skin, almond shaped eyes peering through tortoiseshell glasses, and a small smile on her lips as she catches his gaze. annoyingly, he feels his stomach dip. tell tale sign that he's attracted to this girl, which he could've figured out without the physical reaction. jude's a pretty self aware guy, after all.

"don't have a match today?" he voice carries over the music in his ears.

he blinks, momentarily thrown off by her directness. "no, i'm off"

"okay" she says, unfazed. "your coffee is ready"

"huh?" he blinks again.

"your coffee?"

his eyes follow to where her finger is pointing, to find that, sure enough, his coffee is ready and waiting for him. jude curses silently, realizing he was too busy staring at this girl and being lost in his music to notice the barista setting it down on the counter.

he glances up at the barista, who sends him a sly wink, as if to say, caught you.

he murmurs a quiet thank you, pays for his drink, and generously tips. all the while he waits for the girl to strike up conversation with him, or ask for a picture, or yell BELLIGOL!!!!! unprovoked. because that's usually what happens when people recognize him in public.

instead, she asks for a muffin, and when the barista hands it to her on a plate, she simply offers a soft smile to jude before walking back to her seat.

jude's jaw slackens.

"ask to sit with her" the barista, whose name tag reads enzo, encourages from across the counter.

"but-"

"you've got nothing to lose" he reminds him. "if she says no you just walk out and leave and never see her again"

except he does have something to lose. he always does, when it comes to these things. a small, paranoid part of him runs through the scenarios: what if she sneakily took a picture of him while he was standing there? what if she says no, and then runs to one of those stupid gossip accounts on instagram to announce jude bellingham is such a creep, ew!. what if-

the chatter in his mind is silenced when he notices the pin on the barista's shirt, which reads: GREEN PEACE.

jude is immediately reminded of his horoscope this morning. keep an eye out for all things green.

enzo follows his gaze, then grins. "i volunteer there. great cause you know?"

jude doesn't respond. the familiar thought creeps in again: horoscopes are ridiculous, and any person who makes decisions based on them is naive at best and downright cuckoo at worst. but this is harmless isn't it? its not like he's letting astrology convince him to sink his entire net worth into some sketchy crypto currency or something.

so he squares his shoulders and mutters to enzo, "fine, i'll go talk to her"

the barista just gives him an encouraging thumbs up as jude picks up his coffee and heads her way.

she’s still typing as he walks over, her fingers flying over the keyboard with the kind of focus that makes him wonder if she's even aware of her surroundings at all. the oversized bow in her hair bobs slightly as she shifts in her seat. for some reason, he finds that little detail endearing.

when he finally reaches her table, he clears his throat softly.

“hi" he says confidently. "would you mind if i sat here?”

she looks up, tilting her head to study him for a beat. then, with a shrug, she gestures to the empty seat across from her. "go ahead"

she doesn’t look surprised that he’s there. instead, she closes her laptop gently and leans back on her chair as he takes a seat.

“didn’t think you’d actually do it” she says, sounding amused.

“do what?” he asks, also leaning back on his chair.

“come over and sit” she replies, a small smirk playing on her lips. “you were staring for a while”

he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “your bow is distracting”

she adjusts it on the back of her head, and a single strand of curls slips out from where she’d tucked it behind her ear. jude has to fight the urge to tuck it back in.

"got it yesterday"

“i like it” he says, fumbling a bit. “it’s very… cottage core?” he immediately regrets his words, because he has no idea what he's talking about. he hopes he's not embarrassing himself. “it gives off that vibe.”

he's relieved when she laughs. "thanks. i'll take it"

"i'm jude by the way" he says hastily. he hopes he's not coming off as arrogant by not introducing himself earlier, even though she recognized him.

"i'm y/n"

he nods towards her laptop. "y/n, what's got you so busy on new years?"

"oh, i'm applying for grad programs. finshing up uni soon, so yeah" she says shyly.

"what do you go to school for?"

she tells him about her major, how she's feeling about graduating soon. he listens intently, genuinely interested, and when it’s his turn to share about his job and life, he finds himself opening up too. it’s easy; surprisingly easy. for someone he met just ten minutes ago, their conversation flows effortlessly. she’s funny, quick witted in a way that keeps him on his toes, and she laughs at his jokes like she genuinely finds him amusing. it makes him feel good about himself.

enzo wanders over a while later.

"you two need anything else?"

jude glances down at his coffee cup, empty for at least the last twenty minutes. this would be the perfect moment to call it a day, to say goodbye and head home like he originally planned. with january being a very busy month for the team, he knows he should take every chance he gets to rest and recharge.

but leaving is the last thing he wants to do. talking to y/n is fun, refreshing.

"yeah, jude says, before he can overthink it. he nods toward y/n’s plate with a small grin. "i’ll have a muffin too"

II.

april 9, 2025 - today the stars are urging you to take charge, cancer. whether it’s expressing your feelings or trying something new, trust that courage will be rewarded 💪

having a crush is top 10 most painful things in the world.

jude used to roll his eyes at people who said that, chalking it up to melodramatics. but now he knows it first hand. because why in the hell is one person taking up so much of his brain space? how is that legal? how is that remotely okay?

that person is y/n, of course. they're friends now. close friends. friends who hang out regularly, who text a lot. friends who have inside jokes, shared playlists that she uses to tease him about his 'old man music taste', and a mutual understanding that they just get each other. its is great. it’s everything jude could ask for. except for the fact that it’s not enough.

for four months now, he feels like he's been sentenced to a life of angst. the kind that feels heavy on his chest whenever she's near, or worse, when she's not. so much so that he finds comfort in his so called 'old man music', sometimes unintentionally sulking to  '70s ballads about longing while staring dramatically out the window like one of those moody main characters in coming of age movies. his mother had caught him once and given him the biggest side eye, as if saying get a grip please!!

and when his woe is me schtick doesn’t work? he distracts himself the only way he knows how: throwing himself at girls who aren’t her.

it’s not something he’s proud of. in fact, it makes him feel like an idiot most of the time. but what else is he supposed to do? she doesn’t seem to want him, not like that, and he’s stuck in this cruel limbo that's seemingly never ending. best bet he has is to try and forget.

on this april evening, jude is walking out of the locker room after a match, his heart still racing from the rush of adrenaline and the high of scoring a brace. y/n waits for him in the underground parking lot of the bernabéu– a rare thing, since she doesn’t care much for football and has only attended his matches once or twice, and always in the company of his other friends. the irony isn’t lost on him: the person who occupies so much of his thoughts doesn’t share his love for the thing that defines his life. it’s baffling, but it doesn't feel wrong, and he’d managed to convince her to come tonight, using the excuse that his mom was out of town and he’d appreciate the company on the drive home.

he finds her leaning against his car, scrolling absentmindedly on her phone.

“hey” she says when she spots him, grinning at him. “you took your time"

"sorry" jude grins back. "there were so many people to take pics with"

then she throws herself at him so suddenly that he stumbles, barely managing to steady them both. she envelopes him into a tight hug, and jude surrenders himself to it gladly, heart pounding insistently against his ribs.

“two goals!” she leans back, her face alight with excitement as her hands grip his shoulders. she shakes him slightly, her energy infectious. “you were fucking unstoppable!”

“thanks” jude giggles, pulling her into another hug. he’ll take any physical closeness he can get.

they stay like that for a moment longer than necessary, and then y/n pulls back, her hands flying to his hair. she tugs gently at one of his coils, frowning slightly.

“your hair is so dry” she says, her tone exasperated but fond. “did you forget to use the leave in gave you? you have to put it on after you shower, jude” she tsked.

out of the corner of his eye, jude notices his driver glancing at them in the side mirror before quickly looking away. he wonders again if this looks like more than what it is. not that he’d mind if it did.

“no, yeah, i did bring it” jude says defensively, but just as he’s about to grab his bag to show her, his hand freezes. his pockets are empty. “shit” he mutters, patting himself down to make sure. “think i forgot my phone back there”

“it’s alright” y/n assures him. “we can go get it” 

the elevator ride back to the locker room is quiet. jude shifts from foot to foot, sneaking glances at y/n, who seems to be pointedly avoiding his gaze for whatever reason.

when the doors open, they step into the hallway where jude had been earlier. he spots his phone right where he thought it’d be, face down on a bench just outside the locker room where he’d been taking pictures with fans.

“there it is” he sighs in relief. 

“imagine someone nicked it” y/n jokes as she picks it up. 

“i’d be fuming” he chuckles, but then he notices her face. she’s frowning down at his screen, evidently bothered by what she sees. a second later, she hands it back to him, a tight, forced smile on her face.

“oh” y/n’s voice is light, almost too casual. “here you go”

jude finds what’s caught her attention. Its a DM notification from a girl, the message preview reading: had fun last week.  when can I see you again?

“its  uh– its someone i met at a party last week” jude stammers. “we–we didn’t, you know, but–”

“you don’t owe me an explanation” she says quickly, her voice light but strained. “it’s fine”

but it’s not fine, and the sudden distance in her tone cuts deep. jude clenches his jaw, sliding his phone into his pocket as they head back to the elevator. fucking idiot, he scolds himself. but a part of him is hopeful. maybe she cares, maybe she wants him the same way he wants her.

the ride down is tense, a heavy silence between them. jude feels like the words are right there, desperate to get out, but he doesn’t know where to start.

“thanks for coming tonight” he finally says, breaking the quiet. “even though football isn’t really your thing”

she glances at him, her lips twitching. “you’re my thing”

the words are like a punch in the gut, but in a good way.  before he can stop himself, before he can overthink, he blurts out: “i like you. more than a friend, i mean. i have for a while now. and i know this probably isn’t the right time or place to say it, but i can’t keep pretending i don’t feel this way about you”

y/n stares at him for a beat, her eyes searching his face. then, without warning, she steps forward, cups his cheek, and kisses him. it’s soft at first, but when he kisses her back, it deepens, all the pent up feelings spilling out.

“i like you too” she murmurs against his lips in between kisses. “a lot”

she doesn’t say anything more, and neither does he. there’s an unspoken understanding that they’ll get to talk later. there’s  time to untangle his messy coping mechanisms, to decide what this is and what it could become. for now, it’s enough to kiss like two people who’ve been suppressing so much for so long. for jude, it feels like a long exhale after holding his breath. its feels like relief, like a much needed respite. 

the elevator dings, and they jump apart just as the doors slide open. a staff member is standing on the other side, clearly trying not to stare. jude is too happy to feel embarrased.

“buenas noches!” jude says brightly, winking at the man before grabbing y/n’s hand and pulling her out of the elevator, their fingers intertwined. 

III.

july 1, 2025 - things are heating up!🔥. the stars are conspiring to bring moments of ecstasy to you, cancer.

the first three months of jude and y/n dating flipped everything he'd pictured for his early 20s on its head: staying single, having fun, engaging in meaningless hookups that served their purpose but left no emotional trail behind. those plans flew out the window thanks to y/n, who makes him laugh until his stomach hurts, who became one of the few people in the world he feels truly himself with, who now goes out of her way to watch football because she knows how much it means to him.

plus he's having the best sex of his life. he really can't complain.

its the middle of summer, a couple days after his birthday and a few before he has to leave on the team's preseason tour. they're in birmingham, taking a quick two day trip before the craziness of their lives pulls them in different directions. jude spends the day showing her around the city—his old stomping grounds, the places that defined his childhood and adolescence. it feels amazing to share this part of himself with her, to show her the nooks and crannies of what makes him him. 

now they’re back in his house, indulging in other activities. 

“young denzel was so fine. i mean, he can still get it. he's aged like fine wine” she’d sighed earlier, her head resting on his chest. they were cuddling on his sofa, the mighty quinn playing on the tv. they were both slightly distracted: her scrolling through her phone, and jude absentmindedly admiring the bracelet she'd gifted him for his birthday. (jobe had caught him doing the same at breakfast and muttered something about people in love being disgusting)

jude had side eyed her, hand resting lazily on her hip. “was he finer than me?”

"yeah" she'd said without skipping a beat. "definitely"

he'd gasped, feigning offense. "you're supposed to say no. i'm your boyfriend!"

"you're not far off from him, i guess" she'd teased.

"you guess?"

"you asked" she shrugged, fighting a smile. then after a slight pause, "you know, i dated a guy that looked a lot like him once. he was sooo-"

"right that's it" he said, grabbing the remote and turning off the tv. "no more movie nights with you"

"oh no" she deadpanned, tone dripping with sarcasm as she removed herself from his arms and faced him. "how am going to survive without your 28th rewatch of training day?"

jude couldn't help the grin spreading across his face. he couldn't never stay mad at her; not even pretend mad. before she could react, he grabbed her and gently flung her onto the couch cushions, eliciting a surprised squeak as he pinned her down and started tickling her. her giggles spilled out loudly, her protests coming out in breathless half sentences as he attacked every ticklish spot he could find.

one thing had led to another — heated kisses, a move to his bedroom, clothes thrown off frantically, hands wandering—and now here they are, her body curving towards him, her face contorted in pleasure as pounds into her.

she’s so slick, taking him all at once, and jude’s body has no choice but to surrender to its most primal instincts. in and out. plunge in then retreat. he’s dizzy with pleasure, but even through it, he can’t help but feel a little salty about her earlier comments.

"bet offbrand denzel couldn't make you feel like this" jude murmurs against her ear, his voice low and rough. the rhythm of his hips snapping forward punctuates his words.

her nails drag down his back, leaving faint trails as she gasped "he wouldn’t even have to try"

he nips at the soft skin of her neck. "guess i’ll just have to prove i’m better won’t i?"

she's so tight and warm and wet, he doesn't ever want this to stop. his movements grew deeper, more deliberate, and he smirks when she cries out his name, her hands gripping his shoulders like her life depended on it. "say it" he demands, voice a mix of amusement and lust. "say i’m better"

"you’re-oh god, you’re such an idiot" she manages between moans, refusing to give in completely, though her body betrays her with how eagerly it responds to his every touch.

"wrong answer" jude mutters, his lips brushing hers before he kissed her deeply, swallowing her protests and replacing them with soft whimpers.

his pace quickens, each thrust dragging a gasp or a broken words from her lips. jude leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear, his voice dipping lower. "admit it" he murmurs, his tone slightly smug. "i'm the best you've ever had"

she doesn't respond, and jude can't blame her, they're fucking so good he can't think straight now. and then, as if she can sense he's about to lose control, she gasps, "don't come. not yet. don't stop, please, baby"

he grits his teeth and tries to obey. then she brings him impossibly closer, so their sweaty bodies are pressed up against each other, and kisses him. and all he can think is mine. this beautiful, sweet girl is writhing in pleasure under him and she's his. he'll thank his lucky stars forever.

afterward, they lie tangled together on his bed, having only moved to discard the condom and clean up. their hearts drum in tandem, fast and loud. y/n looks drowsy, her eyelids heavy.

"i lied, by the way" she murmurs slowly against his chest.

"about what?"

"about dating someone that looked like young denzel washington" she giggles. "i made that up to get you riled up"

jude bites her shoulder playfully. "i hate you"

what he really wants to say is, i love you.

IV.

september 17, 2025 - communication is key, cancer 🗣️. today, the stars urge you to focus on how you express yourself. be clear and open in your communication—it’s the foundation for building trust and understanding.

jude can’t shake the feeling that something is off, and it’s gnawing at him.

he’d flown out of madrid the night before for a champions league away game, catching up with y/n for a bit after settling into his hotel room before calling it a night. now, its the afternoon of the next day and he’s in the locker room gearing up for their final training before the match, and he's feeling uneasy because he hasn't heard from y/n since.

he’d texted her his usual good morning when he woke up. no reply. after breakfast, he’d sent her a funny tiktok, something he knew would usually get a quick response, but still, nothing.

it wasn’t like her, and the silence was starting to weigh on him.

the concern he felt earlier turns into irritation as afternoon turns into evening. if y/n was upset with him, why wouldn’t she just say so? the silent treatment didn’t solve anything, and it wasn’t like her either. they’d always been the type to talk things out.

after training, he tries to distract himself. he joins the boys for a round of video games, their laughter and trash talk filling the hotel room. but every few minutes, his eyes flick to his phone, waiting for a reply that doesn’t come. each notification he gets, from group chats to random emails to that stupid astrology app just irritates him further.

they’ve never gone a whole day without talking. ever. the thought nags at him, and as stubborn as y/n can be, jude knows himself: he always caves first. always.

by the time the boys leave his room, jude is pacing, phone in hand. he sighs heavily and hits the facetime button, his thumb hovering over the screen for a split second before he presses call.

y/n’s face appears on the screen when the call connects, and jude’s irritation completely disappears the moment he sees her. she looks exhausted. her curls are a mess, dark circles under her eyes, and there’s something guarded in the way she looks at him.

“hi, babe” he says softly, clearing his throat. “you good? you weren’t responding to my messages all day”

“i’m good" she says curtly.

he waits for her to say more, but she stays silent. he feels a pang of hurt and irritation again. no asking how his day was? how he's feeling before the match?

"how was your day?" he tries.

"fine"

"what did you get up to? how were classes?" he tries again.

"okay"

jude exhales loudly, visibly frustrated. "can i get a response that's more than one word?"

he watches as she shifts around in her seat. "well, i couldn't get a word in last night so i thought what's the point?"

"what?" jude furrows his eyebrows, genuinely confused.

"you were going on and on about your match and your photoshoot coming up and i wanted to tell you about how this exam tomorrow is stressing me out-" her voice wobbles over the last few words and she pauses for a bit, lips pursed and eyes glossy. "- but you couldn't pay attention for the life of you"

jude is silent, jaw slack as he watches his girlfriend on the other end wipe a stray tear away because of him. in his head, nothing seemed amiss last night during their call. but she wasn't lying; he was venting a lot about the match and some logistical issues his agents were worried about for his next shoot. and yeah, maybe he hadn’t given her the space to speak, hadn’t noticed the subtle shifts in her tone or the demeanor that might’ve hinted at how overwhelmed she was feeling.

he curses himself under his breath, because now he realizes that he hadn't even checked their shared calendar the past couple of days, so he hadn't even known about the exam. and to think he picked up the phone because he was annoyed at her.

“y/n” he says, voice low and filled with remorse. “i-i’m so, so sorry. i didn’t mean to-” he stops himself, groaning softly as he facepalms. “i messed up. i wasn’t paying attention, and that’s on me. i’m really, really sorry”

she sniffles. "its okay"

"please don't cry"

"i'm not crying because of you, idiot" she snorts. "i'm crying because i'm stressed out"

jude fully lays down on the bed. "okay, how can I help?"

y/n sighs, wiping her cheeks as she looks at him through the screen. "you can't exactly help me pass this exam, jude"

"no, but I can help you feel less stressed" he says earnestly, his voice softer now. "talk to me, babe. tell me everything. what’s been going on?"

she hesitates for a moment, but when she starts talking, it’s as if a dam breaks. the words spill out in a rush, tumbling as she tells him everything; the material is so much harder than she anticipated, no matter how much she studies it feels like nothing sticks, and the crushing pressure to excel is suffocating her. she pours it all out, every frustration, every fear, every doubt.

jude nods, listening intently. “yeah, that sounds rough. and i made it worse. i should’ve checked the calendar, and i should’ve asked how you were feeling. instead i was just rambling about my stuff"

"you didn’t mean to" she says softly, though her tone is still tinged with exhaustion.

"but I did it, and I’m sorry" he replies, sitting up now, his elbows resting on his knees. “look, communication is our thing, yeah? it’s what makes us work. we can’t let that slide. i don’t ever want you to feel like I’m not here for you, especially when you need me the most”

she gives him a small smile. “and i shouldn’t have just shut down on you today. i could’ve told you how i was feeling instead of ghosting”

“so lets agree no more bottling things up” jude says, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “if one of us is stressed or annoyed or just having a bad day, we say it. no silent treatments, no guessing games”

y/n nods, her shoulders relaxing. “deal”

“good” jude says, his voice lighter now.

they spend the rest of the call catching up on the little things. she shows him the nails she’s planning to get soon, scrolling through her pinterest to show him the design. he mentions that he’s getting a trim in the morning, which prompts her to tease him mercilessly, saying he probably spends more time in his barber’s chair than he does on the football pitch. he quips back that its probably less time than she spends obsessively curating her pinterest boards.

they say their i love yous and good nights, and jude heads to bed, already feeling lighter and more relaxed about the game tomorrow. she has that effect on him, y/n. a way of making him feel seen, loved, and just serene.

he wants to keep her forever.

V.

january 1, 2026 - gratitude grounds you, cancer. 🌟 take a moment today to appreciate everything you've accomplished, as it will give you the clarity and confidence to take the next steps with purpose✨

enzo is standing behind the counter when they enter the cafe, a smile spreading across his face when he recognizes them. it feels serendipitous, almost fated, that they're greeted by the same barista who served them on this day last year, the day they first met.

"ah, my favorite lovebirds!" he exclaims. "happy new year! what will it be today?"

they order their drinks and settle into a corner table, the same one they’d sat at a year ago. between sips of coffee, they make plans to stop by the pharmacy on their walk back to pick up ibuprofen for the hangover still lingering over them.

then, as if it’s the most natural part of the conversation, jude pulls out a key from his pocket and slides it across the table. his expression is soft, his voice as confident as the day he’d first asked to sit with her. “move in with me” he clears his throat. "please?"

she blinks, caught off guard for only a moment, before her lips curve into a smile. “ yes. i mean, i would love to”

it was a long time coming. their relationship is going strength to strength, despite their seemingly different worlds. all because, at their core, they're the same. jude feels proud that he's built something great with someone so special- even looking at her now makes his heart splutter, he's never going to be used to how beautiful she is. most of all he's proud that they’ve managed to carve out a space in each other for each other.

every time she stayed over, every morning they woke up tangled in the same sheets (her inevitably hogging the covers to his annoyance) it felt right. so this question has been building for a while, and when he finally asked it, her answer, immediate and without hesitation, feels like the most natural thing in the world.

they walk out of the cafe after a while, arm in arm. he steals glances at y/n walking beside him and he feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude. for that stupid astrology app and enzo's GREEN PEACE pin. but most of all, for the kismet of that day a year ago, for everything they’ve built since, and for everything still ahead.

[5starssz]

All For Me

Paige Bueckers x fem reader

Your two year relationship with collegiante basketball star Paige Bueckers ends suddenly in both of your senior year. You couldn’t seem to detach yourself from her even though Paige had seemed to move on. Once you graduated and Paige was doing her 5th year, Paige finally realizes what she lost.

All For Me- Mariah The Scientist

!Warnings! Angst

Purple= Paige

Pink=You

All For Me-Part one

One Year Ago

“Why are you doing this?”, my voice was low, heavy with all the emotions I was forced to bear in that moment. No one expects the person they thought was THE ONE to break up with them on a random Wednesday in December at 2am. Paige sat across from me as we both sat on the floor of a tight hallway in her residence hall. It was an empty hallway with no dorm rooms where we would meet. Paige’s eyes shifted down to the ground, avoiding eye contact with me. “I just can’t do this anymore”, she bluntly stated. “You’re lying Paige, i’ve done nothing but be the person you needed. I grew for you Paige, we grew together. What can’t you not do?!”, you emotionally explained. My voice being unstable due to the puddles forming in my eyes. Paige lifted her head, eyes dialed on mine. For once I couldn’t read her. There was nothing behind those blue eyes that were once filled with love. “I’m sorry”, was the last thing she said to me as she got up and walked off. ‘I’m sorry’ the last words I thought would be exchanged between us. I sat in the same spot until 4am hoping she would run back to me and say she didn’t mean anything she said, i really hoped. She didn’t.

Current

I woke up in my small disheveled apartment to my phones alarm sounding in my ear. Ive lived in this apartment since my Junior year of college. I had a showing for a house that’s up for Sale about thirty minutes from me. I did my normal morning work routine: Brush my teeth, skin care, makeup, hair, and fish for an outfit. Luckily last night I felt like being organized and picked my work outfit the night before, a grey pant suit and some black heels. I hated my work attire but I gotta do what I gotta do. I headed out a few minutes early so I could grab a coffee before I had to drive to the house. My normal coffee shop was closed so unfortunately I have to venture onto campus for coffee. ‘I’m praying i don’t see anyone’, I say to myself knowing exactly who that ‘anyone’ was. The drive isn’t far, which was the goal when I first rented the apartment. I parked in a parking lot next to the shop, walking in and immediately being hit with the scent of coffee and pastries. Due to my amazing luck, the line was extremely long. “fuck it, a girl needs her coffee”, i said quietly walking into the line. As I stood in the line I heard a large group of people laugh, it didn’t catch my attention that much to pull my eyes off my phone. The laughing continued until the sound of a breaking plate made the whole establishment fall into silence. My head quickly turned to the source of the sound. “oh my god”, I said out loud when my brain finally processed what I’ve been looking at. A group of girls in dark blue sweat suits and one standing up with her hands rested on her head. Her eyes shifted around the small shop realizing all eyes were on her. Her eyes were met with mine and my heart dropped. Her eyes grew and her hands dropped to her side. Everyone else around us had gone back to whatever they were doing before and the rest of the girls started laughing at Paige and helping clean up. Not Paige though, she remained in the same spot maintaining eye contact with me. ‘I can’t do this today’, I thought to myself breaking the eye contact with her. I can’t really tell but it looked like she was….sorry? or sad? I can’t read her like I once could. Her eye contact was so captivating, it brought back a flood of memories in that short amount of time. I was left in deep thought in the middle of this long ass line. “Hey”, the voice broke me out of my deep dive into memories. My eyes moved to the right of me to be face to face with her. “Hi Paige”, I said to her with a small smile. “You look great…..and i’ve been thinking lately and I’m sorry about how I ended things with us-“. I cut her off. “I’m sorry Paige but I don’t think this is the time or place for this conversation. I have a house showing to get to”. “I understand. I shouldn’t have dumped all this shit on you right here, right now. We can talk later?”. I grabbed my coffee off the counter and turned back to Paige. “yeah, I still have your number. See you later Paige”. I squeezed my way through the crowd of busy people and walked out the double glass doors quickly until I felt something on my arm. I stopped to turn around and saw Paige grasping onto my forearm. “Paige I-“. “I know you have to go but just know I never closed the door on us……I’m stupid as shit and thought there was someone else for me. I fucked up and i’m so sorry”. Her voice sounded like she was hurt, like she really regrets it. But she left me for someone else?! “We’ll talk Paige”. I said walking away and out of her grasp. I still can’t hate her though, I cant bring myself to hate her. My heart still beats faster for her like it did when we were deep in love, I don’t get it. The only thing I was left thinking was ‘what did that girl have on me?’

————————————————————————

to be continued….

[taintandviolent]

new tattoo ; Eric Draven x Reader

summary: You’re visiting your friend, Chance, for a new tattoo; a chest piece. While he's working, one of his friends comes over to chill; someone you've never seen before. His name is Eric Draven.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.5K | female reader, smut, unprotected sex, kissing, canon divergence/alternate universe (technically), neck kissing, tattoo needle mention, sex in someone else's apartment, hook-ups.

a/n: Shelly doesn't exist in this -- all in the name of reader getting fucked good n' hard. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

It’s been about an hour since Chance started on your newest tattoo; a beautiful chest piece of a bat, nestled perfectly below your breasts. The room is filled with the hypnotic buzzing of the tattoo gun, and whatever music is playing on his speakers. You tap your fingers on the table beneath you, a staccato rhythm against the smooth leather.

The light is angled over your chest, illuminating the nakedness of your torso for Chance – who is completely unfazed by the lack of clothing. He’s working, and despite doing tattoos out of his apartment, he is ever the professional. You, on the other hand, enjoyed flashing your tits whenever you got the opportunity. You could’ve brought pasties, sure, but why bother? He’s already tattooed spiderwebs around your nipples, it’s not like this is something new.

Knock knock knock. Your eyes move first, but your head follows stiffly, careful not to move your torso too much and cause an error. 

“Do you wanna’ get that…?” You ask. Chance shakes his head. 

“It’s open!” He shouts without pulling his attention from your tattoo. A thrill runs through you; whoever is about to open the door is going to get an eyeful. 

The man that walks through the door stuns you. Literally. It takes everything in you not to let your jaw hang slack like a fool, like a teenage girl who has just seen the hot new guy. He’s tall, easily surpassing six feet, wears a black jeans, and a sheer tank top that allows you to see through the fabric, letting you see all the ink that decorates his toned torso. Your eyes dance over his tattoos, wondering passively which ones Chance did. You recognize his style in quite a few pieces. Your gaze holds a weighted bias; you do love an inked up man. But even if he weren’t, you think your reaction would be the same. 

“What’s up, man?” 

“Nothing,” he says casually, his voice low and smooth. There’s a sadness there, something that you want to reach your fingers into and pull out, but you refrain, watching him quietly as he approaches the couch to your left. 

Chance pauses, pulling the gun from your chest, to introduce you to the nameless friend.  He fist bumps him and nods to you. “This is Eric.” 

“Hi Eric,” you say with an obvious, enticing smile in your voice, extending your hand nonchalantly upwards to him. You don’t seem to shy away from the fact that your tits are just… out, but Eric seems daunted by the visuals – god, is he shy? Your stomach clenches at the thought. The way he’s desperately trying to avoid looking at them is cute, and you feel your smile widen further. You let out a tittering laugh, and push your hand closer to him, urging him to take it.

“It’s okay, they’re kind of unavoidable right now…” you confess, assuring him that any glances won’t be met with a smack across the face. Secretly, you welcome them, wanting his pretty green eyes to trail over every inch of your body until he has it memorized, or can’t resist touching you. Either or. He chuckles, breathily, and takes your hand, giving it a gentle shake. Like the rest of his body, his hand is covered in tattoos, and you can’t help but play with his long fingers as he pulls away. As your hands break apart, you suppress the urge to reach for it again, pulling it back to you. Eric takes his place on the sofa, grabbing a cigarette from the pack that lies on the table. You hear the flick of the lighter, and the familiar scent fills the room.

Chance’s hands return to your chest, laying carefully atop your skin. The hypnotic puncturing of the tattoo needle lulls you into a relaxed state, but every time you look over, Eric’s enchanting green eyes dart away, feigning innocence. He looks at the window, Chance’s bookcase, anything that isn’t you. Each time, you smile, feeling like the butterflies in your stomach are going to rupture through the layers of your skin.

When you finally catch him, his eyes are sweeping along your body, watching as your chest rises and falls with each breath, watching as Chance draws on your skin, creating a permanent piece of artwork to be admired, though you gather that he’d rather admire the artwork that was your body. After painting your form with his gaze, his eyes finally meet yours, and as though by supernatural force, you hold him there, squeezing as tightly as you possibly can. He doesn’t look away, and you blink your eyes slowly, affectionately, like a cat. Eric’s full, pink lips pull up in a crooked smile, and he looks down at his hands, nodding softly. You wonder what he just agreed to in his head. There’s an undeniable draw to him, a pulling sensation deep in your stomach, and you think, with the way his eyes dance over your face, he feels it too. 

Chance interrupts the staring contest going on between the two of you. “Alright, I think we’re finished. There’s a full length mirror in the bathroom.” 

Carefully, you sit up and scurry to said bathroom. There’s a few moments of silence until it’s shattered by a high-pitched squeal; your reaction can be heard throughout the apartment. The bat is hanging perfectly between your breasts, clinging to a crescent moon, and looking so real that it might just flap away at any moment. 

“Chance!” You rush back into the living room, and clap your hand over your mouth for a moment before speaking. “Chance, oh my god, I love it! Thank you so much!” 

“What do you think?” You turn around, bouncing on your heels excitedly. Eric’s pupils dilate, black amongst the green. He watches as your ample cleavage jiggles with your enthused little steps, and makes a fist on his knee. You can see the wheels turning as he coaches himself to focus on the tattoo, to stop staring at your tits and actually comment something useful. 

“It’s really sick, man. Nice work.” 

Chance thanks him with a handshake before tapping the table again. He has a piece of Saniderm on his lap, cut to size and ready to cover up your new ink. Eric watches, knowing the process well. 

Once you’re sealed up, you hop off the table and reach for your shirt and the wad of cash that’s tucked in your pocket. You pass the cash to Chance, and shake out the tank top. Eric almost seems sad to see you get dressed, watching silently as you pull the sheer grey tank top over your head – as though it really covers anything. It’s sheer enough to see the tattoo through, and your nipples are two peaks in the fabric. 

“Hey, I’ll be back. I gotta do a tattoo downtown. You guys gonna chill here?” 

You both exchange a glance, and seeing nothing wrong with that proposal, you shrug. Eric nods his head. “Sure, we’ll hang here.” 

“Cool, cool. I’ll be back in a couple hours.” 

And just like that, you two are alone. The silence hangs heavy between you two, an adolescent awkwardness crackling in the space between your bodies. You clear your throat. He raises his attention to you, brows lifted on his forehead. 

“So… how about a tattoo tour?” 

“A… tattoo tour?” He asks, confused. 

‘Yeah, y’know. I show you mine, you show me yours.” You pause, looking into his eyes, letting the innuendo land as heavy as he allows it to. “What they mean, where we got them, so on and so forth.” 

“I get tattoos because I like them… a lot of mine are just…” 

“I don’t care,” you say, standing up. “I want to see them.” 

He stands up, and you crane your neck to look up at him. Now that you’re next to him, the size difference is staggering. “Holy fuck, you’re tall.” 

He chuckles, and tosses his shirt on the sofa. You mimic the action, tossing your own shirt over to join his. Taking it a step further, you pull your grey sweats down your hips and step out of the circles. You take a step closer, fingers outstretched to touch him. You start at his hairline. 

“Face tattoos... crazy. Commitment is off the charts.” 

Again, he laughs. 

“To someone?” Bold. Your fingers continue their path over his shoulders.

He shakes his head solemnly, fingers trailing over a quote on your forearm. “No. Not to anyone.” 

So he’s single. Good. His hands scan over your tattooed arms, ghosting over the flesh like a nervous lover. His thumb rubs over the tattoo just before the crook of your arm – a portrait of a cat. 

“My cat. She died.”

He furrows his brows, knowing the staggering sensation of loss. You hum, and continue your exploration of his body, digits gently raking over each piece of artwork that decorates his toned physique. Your fingers trail over the giant eye that stares at you from his sternum, trailing over the rays that come off it. You ghost over his biceps and his highly-inked forearms, your fingertips tasting each tattoo. 

Finally, you reach his torso, his abdomen. All taut skin and muscles. He reaches between your breasts, lightly tracing the new addition. It’s still tender and warm underneath the plastic. He smiles.

“Why is good crossed out?”

“Hm?” He looks down. Your finger hovers over the GOOD BOY tattoo.

“Are you not a good boy?” You ask, dropping the pad of your finger to his skin, and outline the words carefully. “Why’s it crossed out?” 

His cock stirs in his jeans at your delicate touch. It doesn’t help that you’re so close to him. “I don’t think I am, no. Not with all the shit I’ve done.”

A laugh tumbles from your lips and your hand trails farther down, caressing the centipede that curves past the waistband of his jeans. You long to go deeper, but in a shocking act of good behavior, you start to let your hand drop to your side. Eric’s large hand catches it at the wrist, encircling it with ease.

“Don’t… stop… please?” 

Your eyes light up with a tantalizing mixture of lust and disbelief. 

“Eric,” you mutter almost tauntingly, tasting his name on your tongue. “I can’t see the rest. You’ve got clothes on…” 

The statement is a weighted one, but it’s also factual; the clothes are impeding you from seeing the inevitable ink that decorates his lower body. His gaze drifts from yours to the couch again, before he takes long, careful steps, dragging you with him. His grip is soft but stern, his fingers circling your wrist like a shackle. 

“Sit with me.” His voice is soft, subdued, barely above a whisper and dripping with an eroticism that you want to wrap yourself in. Instead of pulling him next to you, he pulls you harshly down on top of him. Your legs spread on either side of his hips, straddling him. Between your legs, pressed against the fabric of your jeans is a growing stiffness. You look at your bodies, pressed together and spot the bulge in his jeans, considerably more prominent than before. You laugh through your nose – it’s a giddy chuckle, one that tumbles out of your mouth with an elation behind it. Hearing your laugh, Eric looks up, his brows pulling together. 

“I don’t usually do this,” he confesses. You can tell, he’s worried you’re laughing at him, poking fun at his desperation – which couldn’t be farther from the truth. To remedy that, you lean down and press your mouth against his pouted one, feeling the firmness of his chin against yours. It takes a moment, but eventually, his soft, pink lips relinquish and press back against yours. You nip at his bottom lip, begging for entrance. He grants it, and your tongue swipes along his, teasingly. 

He’s warm against you, the heat comes off his skin in waves. You wrap your arms around his neck and tug your body closer like you’re trying to melt together. His hands find your ribcage and sink downwards, trailing over the curve of your waist, and the gentle flare of your hips. You shudder into his touch, contentedly. His hips twitch up into you, pressing his hardening cock into your heat. 

“Eric,” you breathe into his open mouth. “I think you’re really hot.” 

He nods against your lips, wordlessly agreeing that the feeling is mutual. You inhale his scent as it mingles with your own and pull back, resting your forehead on his. 

“I wanna’ see the rest of your tattoos…” you whisper. Your fingers play with his hair at the nape of his neck, twirling the dark strands gently.

Eric separates from you, just enough to bring his hand up between your bodies, to cup your cheek, completely enveloping it with its size. He looks at you, memorizing all the features of your face. He seems satisfied with whatever he sees, and pulls you back in for a fiery kiss, his tongue slipping out to wrestle with yours. 

Your hands are the ones that are wandering now, finding the button of his jeans. Breaking the kiss to free his cock, you pause to admire it. Framed by a thatch of dark hair, it’s long like the rest of him, and the head already weeps with anticipation. You pull his jeans down his hips and underneath his ass, tugging until they’re pooled at his ankles, over top his combat boots. His legs are heavily tattooed too, but your attention is elsewhere. Greedy to feel the warmth in the palm of your hand, you reach forward, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, your thumb swiping over the tip. Just as you expected; throbbing, velvet warmth. As your thumb spreads the bead of precum down the head, down the length of it, Eric’s breath hitches. 

You look up. 

He’s watching you. Intently. His eyes are locked on your hand as it moves, teasing him. Like he feels your gaze on him, without moving his head, he looks up at you. There’s a deep, deep longing in his eyes, a desperation and a plea to continue… he’s begging without saying a word. He longs for the comfort of pleasure, of knowing someone intimately. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s been with someone, how long his apparent loneliness has consumed him.

Taking a breath, you let go of his dick and straighten up. Your fingertips scrape along your own hips, dipping underneath the elastic of your underwear, catching them on your hand. You continue sliding your hands down your legs, taking your underwear with them. Once you're free of them, Eric’s eyes flicker from tattoo to tattoo, but come to rest on your face, looking deep into your eyes. You suck your bottom lip, catching it between your teeth and return to the couch, straddling him once more. Tenderly, he kisses a heated line from your neck down to your breasts. His lips press against one of the aching, swollen peaks before drawing it into his mouth, his tongue swirling around your sensitive nipple. You look down, watching him and let out a particularly pornographic whimper. It feels so fucking good… he’s so attentive.

You’re on your knees, but he’s big enough to reach you, even there. Eric’s dick twitches against your aching center, twitches up between your folds. You whimper, nodding, granting him whatever permission he needs. It’s enough, because he reaches down, taking himself into his hand, and after a few strokes, he lines it up with your wet slit. He kisses you as he pushes himself into you, as though it lessens the shock of his thick cock as it breaches your slick heat. Your jaw comes down, poised in a silent scream as he splits you open, finding comfort within your clenching walls. 

He jerks his hips once, burying himself all the way inside. A deep, throaty groan erupts between you two, and you wrap yourself around him tight, supporting yourself on his neck. You raise yourself off his cock slowly, feeling the slick tug as it slides out. Your walls clench around it like they’re desperately trying to pull it back in, and you grant them their wish, slamming yourself back down on his cock with a high-pitched whine. You find a quick rhythm of bouncing on his cock, and Eric tenses underneath you, his cock twitching deep inside you.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Oh my god.” 

You nod, already breathless. Though you’re in control of the speed, his cock is bullying, and the tip kisses your cervix every time you lower down onto it. Your breaths are replaced by moans as you ride him, bouncing on his length with reckless abandon. 

Mid-movement, Eric suddenly grips your hips tight, freezing you in place. You look down at him, pupils blown wide with lust, but perplexed. He’s focused on your cunt with his debauched expression; slack-jacked and heavy lidded with lust. He bucks his hips up hard, slamming into you with a renewed fervor. You jerk forward, collapsing into his shoulder. Silently, you thank god for the music that’s cutting the heavy sound of his hips as they slam against you and the wet squelch of your cunt as it swallows him whole, otherwise, you’d be almost embarrassed. You hold yourself up on your knees, letting Eric do the work. 

“Fuck yeah, baby… you feel so fuckin’ good…” he growls, one hand slithering around to grip the firmness of your ass. He kneads the soft, pliable flesh with his massive hand, pulling a desperate, whimpering moan from your lips. He feels so good. Your senses are consumed with him; the way he looks at you, hungrily, deeply, like he’s trying to unravel you from the inside out. The way he smells, cologne, the faint lingering scent of cigarettes, and the heady mix of mutual sex and sweat as he continues his assault on your dripping cunt. The way he feels, fucking into you with an insatiable hunger, like he’s trying to get deeper than he actually can. Everything about him is consuming you and you quickly feel yourself growing obsessed with him. 

The coil in your stomach winds tight around itself, a building pressure deep in your core. Your breaths are ragged, broken with pleasurable whines and moans, as he buries himself inside you over and over again. 

“Fuck, Eric… fuck, don’t stop… don’t you dare stop…! Shit!” 

His hand abandons its place on your cheek and comes to rest between your legs. His middle and ring finger slide down to your entrance, feeling his own cock as it slides in and out; slick and coated in mutual arousal. He grits his teeth, bringing some of the slickness around to your clit, where he encircles it with tight movements with his thumb. Electricity courses through your veins, and you shudder at the explosion of white, hot  heat on your cunt, your eyelids fluttering shut in bliss. 

You feel his muscles draw up tight as he slams into you with one final, hard thrust. His cock twitches as he releases, pumping his essence deep inside your cunt. You feel it flood you and leak out the sides, running down your thighs and dripping heavily onto his. Languidly, Eric thrusts his cock up into you, feeling every clench, fucking the cum back up into you as it dribbles out. The feeling of that paired with his ministrations on your cunt makes you come. Hard. You let out a deafening moan as your spasming walls clamp down on his cock, milking it as your own orgasm washes over you. You seize up, back arching with pleasure, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving red, indented crescent moons amongst the ink. 

“Fuck m-me… oh my god…. Oh my god, Eric!” 

Eric’s chest heaves as he catches his breath, still coming down off the high of the fuck. Sweat glistens on his forehead and chest, and you run your hands along the length of his torso, scraping your nails against the skin. 

“That was fuckin’ amazing,” he pants, his hands coming to rest atop your thighs. His cock softens inside you, and you almost don’t want to move. But… this isn’t your apartment and while Chase has seen your tits, he hasn’t seen you fully naked and it’s going to stay that way. 

You lift up, letting Eric’s heavy, flaccid cock fall from your cunt. You wince as you straighten up, backing off the couch carefully. Your lips are spread in a delighted smile, watching Eric as you dress yourself, pulling your clothes back onto your sweaty, fucked out body. Eric reaches down to pull his jeans back up, tucking himself into the confines of the fabric. 

You plop down next to him, laughing lightly. “That was really great. I don’t think I’ve gotten fucked like that in a long time. Maybe ever.” 

“Ever?” 

“Ever.”

By the time Chance gets home, you’re both asleep on the small sofa, back to chest, and Eric’s arm wrapped sleepily around your waist. Chance knows what’s happened, but he doesn’t mention it when you wake up.

[slaytheday12]

Heyyy

I hope you're having a good day/night/else?

It's 2025 soon and I was wondering if (maybe) you could do a Walker Scobell x reader at like a new year party and Walker confess ? Please?

If you don't want to it's totally fine, byeeee

Midnight Confessions

The excitement of the New Year's Eve party filled the air as you made your way into the crowded room. The lights flickered above, and the laughter of your friends echoed around you. Everyone was excited to for the new year, but as soon as your eyes found Walker in the crowd, everything seemed to slow down.

It wasn’t that you weren’t used to seeing him, but tonight felt different. You and Walker had been friends for a while now ever since the beginning of the school year, to be exact. But as you watched him across the room, laughing with his friends, something inside you tingled. Maybe it was the way he looked under the soft glow of the lights, or how effortlessly he smiled. Whatever it was, you couldn’t deny that recently, your feelings for him have felt… different.

As you made your way over to him, your heart started to race a little. He smiled at you when you finally reached him, his face lighting up like it always did when he saw you. “Hey, you made it,” he said with a grin, his voice filled with excitement. “I’m glad you came.”

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, trying to act calm, but your nervousness was starting to creep in. “Happy New Year, Walker.”

“Happy New Year,” he said, raising his cup to you. “So, how’s your night going so far?”

“It’s great,” you answered, glancing around at all the people dancing, laughing, and celebrating. But you couldn’t help going back to focusing on him. “A bit loud, but... I guess that’s what you expect at a New Year’s party.”

Walker laughed and nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty crazy in here. But hey, it’s the new year, right?”

You nodded in agreement, but your mind was elsewhere. Tonight was special there was a weird feeling in the air that you couldn’t shake. You had been friends for a while, but lately its felt more intimate between the two of you and you couldn't shake the feeling.

“So… this is fun,” you say awkwardly, trying to break the silence.

Walker shifted slightly, his gaze becoming more serious as he looked at you. “Yeah, but... there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You were suddenly aware of the quiet hum of music in the background, as the chatter of everyone around you began fading. You turned your attention fully to him, your nerves heightening. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his eyes flicking to the side for a second before returning to meet yours. "You know, we’ve been friends for a while now. And I don’t want to make things awkward, but" he exhaled nervously "I umm, i’ve been thinking about this for a while."

Your stomach fluttered, a mix of concern and confusion building. What was he about to say? “What’s wrong walker?” you asked softly.

“I... I like you, okay?” he said quickly, his words rushing out in a nervous tone. “I really like you. More than just as a friend, but I'm not sure if you feel the same way. And I didn’t want to mess things up, you know? Its like totally fine if u don't or whatever” he said in a nervous scramble.

Your breath caught in your throat, the room spinning slightly. You stared at him for a moment, trying to process what he had just said. Walker liked you. More than a friend. It was hard to wrap your head around.

“I—I didn’t know you felt that way,” you said slowly, your voice a little shaky. "I didn’t think you’d... I mean, you never said anything before."

Walker ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. “I know. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and I thought maybe it was just me. But I couldn’t keep it in anymore.” he said in a more serious tone whilst scratching the back of his neck.

Your heart was seriously pounding now. He had just confessed, and you didn’t know what to say. You had always thought of Walker as a good friend, someone you could count on, I mean, I guess recently you've been feeling a bit different about him, but you went exactly sure what it was. But hearing walker say those words made everything feel different.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. “Walker, I didn’t—wow. I didn’t know you felt that way either. I’ve been thinking about you a lot more lately, but... I don’t know. I’ve just always seen us as friends.”

“I get it,” he said quickly, as he turned away avoiding eye contact. He took a second before looking back at you with saddened eyes. “I didn’t want to make things weird, but I think... I think I just needed to tell you. I’ve been trying to act like everything’s normal, but I feel like I’m lying to myself.”

You smiled at him gently, as your heart began filling with warmth. “I’m glad you told me. I don’t want things to be awkward either, but... I like you too, Walker. I’m just not sure where this leaves us.”

Walker’s eyes lit up with hope, his smile wide and full of happines. “Really?”

You nodded chucking at his excitement. “Yeah. Really. It’s just... everything’s moving so fast, you know? I didn’t expect this to happen tonight.” you said truthfully.

“I didn’t either,” he admitted, laughing. “But here we are, .... maybe we can start with a date, and see how we go.” walker asked.

But before you could agree to what walker said, the countdown for the new year began, taking over the whole room.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

Walker moved a little closer, his eyes not leaving yours. There was a soft tension in the air now, one of understanding. This was a start of something special between the two of you and what better time to start it then the New Year.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

Your heart was racing as you met his joyful gaze. You could feel the butterflies swirling in your stomach as the seconds ticked down to midnight.

“Four! Three! Two!”

As the clock stroked midnight, everything seemed to fall into place. Walker stepped closer, his face just inches from yours, and for a moment, the world felt still. He hesitated, then gently pressed a quick, shy kiss to your cheek.

When he pulled back, his face was flushed, but he was smiling, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Happy New Year,” Walker murmured, his voice soft as his forehead lightly rested against yours.

“Happy New Year,” you replied, your heart racing, knowing this was the start of something special.

A/N: hope u all enjoyed lmk any feedback u may have thank u.

Tags: @sophand4n4, @kaiwrites092

[rmadridcore]

Love in Slow Motion

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Summary: Nine times Jude felt a strange warmth whenever he was around you, and one time he finally realized what it was.

Word Count: 1.8K

Author’s note: took a break from writing, but i’m back with a little fluffy Jude fic 🤍 i’ll start getting through my requests as well 🫂

The type of relationship you and Jude had was very special to him. It hasn’t been too long since you two became a couple and he wasn’t the type to get too serious, too fast. He preferred keeping things casual — no heavy responsibilities, no complicated emotions, just light and easy. But that all shifted when you walked into his life. It was like a switch flipped, and suddenly, what used to feel complicated or burdensome didn’t seem that way anymore. He found out how peaceful it could be to have the right person by your side. With you, everything felt good, natural. He was attracted to you, sure, but it went far beyond that. There was this deep respect, an admiration that ran much deeper than anything he had ever experienced before. And he was glad to have you in his life.

But then there was that other feeling. It was subtle at first, a strange, confusing fuzz in the pit of his stomach. A warmth that spread through his chest and left him feeling... overwhelmed, in the best possible way.

The feeling would hit him at the most random times, uninvited but never unwelcome. He couldn’t quite put a name to it at first, but it was undeniable — it was strong, intense, and utterly inescapable when he was around you. And it took him a while, 10 moments to be exact, before he finally realized what that feeling really was.

The first time it hit him was during an ordinary Tuesday at his place. You two had just come back from the gym, snacks in hand — a little indulgence after an intense workout. You sat cross-legged on the floor near the coffee table, meticulously sorting through your favorite candy, arranging them by color like it was some life or death mission. Jude couldn’t help but watch, utterly mesmerized. The way your brows furrowed in concentration, the seriousness in your expression over something so trivial. It was adorable. He didn’t even realize he was smiling, his heart swelling with that familiar warmth. He’d barely noticed it then, but that was the first time the feeling crept in.

The second time was less subtle. You two were lounging in bed, tangled up in each other’s arms as the worst crime series he’d ever seen played on TV. You loved it, adored it, despite how horrendously predictable and dull it was. If it were up to him, that show would never grace his screen, not in a million years. But when you asked him to watch it with you, he couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to. Even though he didn’t care for the show, he found himself invested — not in the plot, but in the way your face lit up during the ridiculous twists, how you laughed at the over the top dialogue. It hit him then, that same feeling, stronger this time. He didn’t care about the show. He cared about you, about how happy you were. And somehow, that made it all worth it.

The third time it hit him was at dawn. Thirst had woken him up in the middle of the night, and after a quick drink of water, he climbed back into bed. But sleep didn’t return as easily. Instead, he found himself gazing at you — your sleeping figure, so peaceful, so serene. You looked perfect, nestled into the fluffy pillow with the blanket pulled up to your chin. His heart swelled as he watched you, that same unamenable feeling washing over him again. There was something mesmerizing about how relaxed and beautiful you looked, your soft features illuminated by the faint light creeping through the curtains. You were flawless to him, like a dream come to life. And as he lied there, wide awake, he realized how happy it made him to be the one who got to fall asleep and wake up next to you. He was happy, so happy, and he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

The fourth time came just before he had to leave for training. He was sitting at the kitchen table, lazily texting his brother, when you came over and placed a cup of coffee in front of him. You gave him a quick kiss before heading to the bathroom, leaving him to take his first sip. As the warm liquid touched his lips, it hit him — you hadn’t asked him how he liked his coffee in months. Only once, when you first started seeing each other. Since then, you had memorized his exact preferences, down to the smallest detail, making it for him just the way he liked without ever needing a reminder. That tiny, thoughtful gesture struck him harder than anything else could have. You knew him so well, and you cared enough to remember the little things. It was a simple moment, but it made him feel that same warmth, that same fuzzy feeling in his chest, stronger than ever.

The fifth time was during a dinner at your friend’s house. The evening had been fun, filled with laughter and conversations, but it was after dinner when that familiar feeling surged through him again. The guests had spread around the house, sipping on drinks and chatting in small groups. He had just come back from the balcony, where he had been talking with a few friends, when he spotted you across the room. You were sitting on a couch with your girlfriends, your head thrown back in laughter, the sound echoing through the room. God, you were beautiful. The way you laughed, so carefree, so full of joy, it made his breath hitch. Your eyes crinkled at the corners, your cheeks flushed from whatever joke had you in stitches, and he felt like time stopped for a moment. In that instant, all he wanted was to hold onto that image of you, happy and glowing. He wanted to freeze time, to keep you laughing forever. It was in moments like that when he felt it the most, this overwhelming, undeniable feeling.

The sixth time hit him when he was getting ready for an award show. You had been by his side all evening, calming his nerves, reassuring him with your words, building him up when he felt uncertain. He loved how involved you were in his career, how you were genuinely his number one fan. As you stood there fixing his collar, making sure he looked perfect before he walked out the door, that feeling rushed over him again. There was something so tender about the way you took care of him, focused on every little detail, and it hit him just how lucky he was to have someone who cared this much.

The seventh time happened on a simple stroll through the city. You loved being outdoors when the weather was nice, and Jude loved tagging along, happy to do anything that brought a smile to your face. As you two walked hand-in-hand along the sidewalk, an adorable white puppy caught your attention. Without a second thought, you dropped Jude’s hand and rushed over to pet the dog, kneeling down and squealing at how cute it was. Watching you gush over the puppy, completely losing yourself in the moment, made that warm, fuzzy feeling flood his chest again. He stood there, grinning, watching as you melted into a bundle of squeaks and giggles, and all he could think was how much he loved seeing you happy.

The eighth time came after one of the hardest days he’d had in a while. Exhausted and stressed, he came home expecting to collapse, but instead, he was greeted by the heavenly smell of his favorite meal cooking. You had surprised him, knowing full well that he’d be grumpy and starving after the long day. The house smelled like comfort, and you acted like it was no big deal, just something you casually did to make his day a little better. But to him, it meant everything. He kissed you as a way of saying thank you, feeling so grateful for how effortlessly you made his life better. You always knew exactly how to make him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

The ninth time was pure simplicity. He had just gotten out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, another one in hand as he dried his hair. He walked into the living room and saw you lounging on the couch, reading a book and wearing his T-shirt. Something about you in his clothes, looking so relaxed and at home in his space, hit him hard. It was such a small thing, but it sent that familiar warmth surging through him, stronger than ever. The sight of you so comfortable in his world, in his shirt, made him realize — he could get used to this. In fact, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

And the tenth time was the epiphany. You two were out grocery shopping, preparing for a dinner party you were hosting for your friends over the weekend. As you wandered through the aisles, picking and choosing what you needed for the meal, Jude followed behind you, pushing the cart loaded with products. He watched you with soft admiration as you weighed your options, debating what dessert to serve. It struck him how perfectly domestic everything felt; how easy, how natural, and how real it was.

Everything he once feared, commitment, responsibilities, routine, was now something he craved with you. He loved the simplicity of it all, the way you moved through life together with such ease. This wasn’t just about being comfortable; it was about feeling truly at home with you. And then, it hit him. That feeling he had been experiencing all along, that warmth in his chest — it was love.

It was love that made him stare at you sorting candy like it was the most captivating thing in the world. Love that had him watching that awful crime show with you, just to hold you close. Love that kept him glued to your sleeping face at dawn. Love that made your laugh the best sound he had ever heard, and the way you made his coffee exactly how he liked it felt so special. Love that made him emotional when you adjusted his collar, and why watching you squeal over a random dog on the street made his heart melt. It was love that made your cooking the best thing he could ever come home to, and why seeing you in his clothes felt so right.

He loved you — deeply, more than he ever thought possible. And as he looked at you then, standing in the grocery aisle, he was sure of one thing: when you looked back at him, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that you loved him just as much.

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (16/18)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: The progression of your pregnancy sends Sylus away for the day to acquire something important from the dragons, leaving you alone on the mountain.

Content Warnings: Adult language.

Length: 3k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15)

Read on AO3

As the months passed and winter melted into spring and into summer you found yourself heavily pregnant during the hottest month of the year. There were good days and bad days and worse days. Pregnancy was beautiful in some aspects, like when you first felt them kick. Sylus hadn’t let go of your stomach for an hour after that just so he could feel them move around more. But other days were filled with puking, mood swings, and insatiable cravings.

“Sylus?” you called.

“What is it--” he stopped when he walked in the bedroom and saw you laying starfished on the floor. “Did you fall?”

“No.”

“Then why are you on the floor?”

“It’s hot and the ground is colder than the bed.”

“Can’t be comfortable though. How about we get you up--”

“No. I live here now.”

“Little bird--”

“Nothing little about me now. Look at me! I look like I swallowed a pumpkin!” Your whole body ached. “Can we just get this kid out already? I’m tired of being pregnant!”

“You look beautiful.” He rubbed your swollen stomach. “You’re growing our child and they will be ready to meet us in another month. I’m sorry you’re having a rough day though. Can I get you anything?”

“You can make it winter again so I’m not dying of heat stroke.” you fanned yourself.

“If I could turn the seasons for you I’d do it but as it is this is the most I can offer.” he unfurled his wings and beat them gently, causing a cool breeze to blow on you. “Better?”

“That does feel nice.” you sighed.

“Now what did you call me in here for? Or did you just need to complain.”

“No. I did need something.” you tried to sit up but your stupid big stomach was making it hard. Sylus stopped fanning you to help you sit up. “Can’t even sit up anymore…can’t believe I agreed to have three more of these.”

“No backing out now.” he said. “Now what did you need?”

You held out your arms. “A hug?”

“Oh my sweet,” he pulled you into his arms. “It’s been a rough day, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah…” you had barely gotten any sleep last night because the baby decided midnight was the perfect time to start doing somersaults in your womb. Then it was just so hot you couldn’t think to do anything but flop onto the ground. You were sore, you were tired, and you just wanted this baby out already!

He looked down at your stomach. “And you in there, treat your mother more kindly. She’s working hard on making you, you should be more appreciative.”

There was a kick to your side. “Baby says no.”

“I fear we have a rebellious child on our hands. Just know, little one, if you keep hurting your mother like this we are going to have words when you are out of there.”

You laughed. “I don’t think they’ll understand why you are scolding them, Sylus.”

“They’ll know. Just like they know what they’re doing right now.”

“You are ridiculous.” you sighed, your mood easing again.

For a few minutes you sat together, tracing your stomach, feeling the faint thumps of the baby kicking at your insides. “I hate to worsen your mood again but I need to tell you something important that I don’t think you will like hearing.”

Your smiled dropped. “Do you have to?”

“Unfortunately.” he brushed some hair from your face. “I need to leave for a day or so.”

“What! Why are you leaving?”

“Hush, it’s alright. You see I…” he sighed. “I have been enjoying our time together so much this past year. I cannot believe that I’ve been able to call you mine for that long. But there’s a certain dragon tradition I need to complete with the due date coming closer.”

“I thought you were done with dragon traditions. You said you were going to create your own rules.”

“I did and I meant it. But there are some laws and practices that I still have to adhere to out of safety.”

“Safety? What do you mean by safety?”

“You see, there is a special salve that all new hatchlings in a dragon tribe are anointed with when they are born. It marks them as dragon and helps keep them safe. It is said to ward off predators and evil spirits. I don’t know how much I believe in evil spirits but with this being our first child I do not want to take any risks.” he cradled your stomach. “The dragons are the closest that they venture this way but the journey is still long. I will be gone for a day, maybe two.”

“I see. But why is it so far? When we went to the beach where they were that only took a couple hours.”

“That was because they needed the sand. And if I showed up at a ride asking for the salve after I had left the tribe it would be seen as exceedingly rude. So I had to wait for another time and this is the time they are closest to this land otherwise. It is still more than half a day’s journey by flight hence why I said I will be gone for a while.”

“That makes sense I suppose. Just promise you’ll hurry back.”

“I will. I promise. Do you want to go stay in the village while I’m gone?”

“No. I can survive a day or two without you here. I don’t much feel like taking a flight. Not if you want me to hurl in your arms.”

“Alright. I leave early tomorrow morning and with luck I should be back late in the evening, or the next afternoon at the latest.” he kissed your temple. “Don’t strain yourself while I’m away.”

“Trust me. I don’t feel like doing much of anything.” you sighed. “One more month…”

The next morning Sylus left, stirring you from sleep but for a moment to tell you he was leaving before giving you a kiss and taking off. You went back to bed for a few more hours until the baby decided to kick at your bladder and woke you up for good.

You went about your day as normal and decided to occupy your time by finishing some of the baby clothes you had been working on. You couldn’t wait to finally meet your baby! Tara had assured you in the reading she did that the birth would go by smoothly. She had asked if you wanted to know whether you were having a boy or a girl but you decided to let it be a surprise.

You were sitting in the hoard room, the reflection of light off the gold provided the best light to work by, when you heard a sound from somewhere else in the mountain. Strange. Was Sylus back already? Maybe the dragons were closer than he thought.

“Let’s go see if your father is home.” you said to your stomach and waddled out of the hoard room. “Sylus?” you called. “Did you forget something?”

You made it to the entrance chamber and saw there was an entire squadron of people there. You didn’t recognize any of them. “Excuse me, you’re trespassing in my home.” you said, drawing their attention to you, “I’m going to need you to leave at once.”

None of them were speaking which immediately put you on edge. You gripped the fabric shears in your pocket. From the back of the crowd one of the men shuffled forward. You knew this man. He was one of the villagers, the one that had been staring at Sylus and you at the woodworker’s cottage.

“That’s her.” he said, pointing to you.

“You weren’t shitting us, Aaron.” one of the others said, “The dragon really mated with a human.”

You placed a hand over your swollen belly. “I don’t know for what reason you have all come here but I suggest you leave now while you still can. If you so much as touch me you will have to answer to my mate and I doubt you want that.”

“Your mate isn’t here.” the man from the village, Aaron, said. “And he won’t be back for a while. We spotted him leaving early this morning with a large pack. Hardly something you take for a quick flight around the mountain, is it?”

They had been stalking the mountain? How long had they been watching? What did they want? None of that mattered right now. You needed to act. You were severely outnumbered and you couldn’t fight without endangering your baby.

“Now, miss, you can come quietly or we can do this the hard way.” they said, brandishing their weapons.

Fuck! You turned and sprinted as fast as you could back into the tunnels of the mountain. You lived here for over a year. You had time to memorize these tunnels. You could hide from them so long as you kept ahead. But it was hard to do that when you were eight months pregnant! You needed to go. You needed to find some place to hide they’d never find you.

“Hard way it is.” their cruel laughter echoed off the walls, “Get her!”

~~~

Sylus was not looking forward to this. The closer he got to the dragons the more agitated he got. He had to talk himself out of turning around and returning home a dozen or more times. He was already anxious leaving you alone and he started to question how much he really needed this salve. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad would happen if he didn’t get it.

He also didn’t want anyone else letting them know that another half-breed was being born. He would deliver that news himself and face whatever ire came with it. It was late in the afternoon when he finally spotted the tribe down below.

Too late to back out now. He flew down, bracing himself for any manner of reactions from the others. Immediately they picked up on his scent. He recognized most of those that he passed. They glared, some growled, but no one had yet to make a move to stop him.

He steeled himself, his hands balling into fists as he charged forward only to have his path abruptly cut off by a large blue dragon with citrine eyes. “The half-breed returns,” they laughed, “And he reeks of human.”

“Nilamegh, how dearly I have not missed you.” the Draconic fell off his tongue easily. It was strange speaking it again after so long. It was rough in his mouth.

Another of the dragons, a green one landed behind him. “He always reeked of human. But this is new.” they pointed a massive claw at Sylus’s neck. “He is mated now.”

“Yes I have, Bercilak.” Sylus said, “And I see you still have not. Why does that not surprise me?”

“You--” Bercilak snarled before Nilamegh cut him off.

“Really? You took a mate?” their large head glared at Sylus, “What poor pathetic human did you force yourself on?”

“Shut it!” Sylus felt his composure slipping. “She is my mate and she wanted to be my mate. She is now pregnant with my child. I have only returned to get the salve for the anointing of my offspring. I promise I will not return after I have acquired a jar to take home with me.”

“More half breeds?” they snarled and the others that had been eavesdropping showed the same shock. “Was our race not already disgraced by the addition of you?”

“That is enough.” a voice boomed louder than all the others. Every dragon bowed their head and moved out of the way as Tengya stepped forward. Despite being surrounded by dragons twice his size this was the only time Sylus felt truly dwarfed. He took a knee, keeping his head low.

“Sioltach,” Tengya said, his voice calm, “You have returned.”

“I go by Sylus now.”

The old dragon made a noncommittal grunt. “You would.” he dismissed the others. “Raise your head. Walk with me.”

Sylus followed obediently, his entire person on edge as he and Tengya wandered farther from the crowd. He wanted to just ask for the salve and leave but knew better than to talk before the elder did. When they were far enough away Tengya sat down, Sylus knelt in his massive shadow.

The large dragon regarded him for a moment. “You come seeking the salve to anoint your offspring, yes?”

“You heard that much, did you?” Sylus muttered.

“No. But I know there is only one reason you would return to the tribe after so long away.” Tengya said, lowering his head to be more eye level with Sylus. “You have a human mate.”

“Yes.”

Tengya sighed, his molten red eyes assessing Sylus up and down. “You have grown. Last I saw of you, you were but a child. Rebellion in your blood, fire in your eyes. You were such an angry child.”

“My anger is what let me survive.” Sylus could feel all those emotions clawing at him. “Are you not angry, elder? You know why I am here. I have a human mate. She is soon to give birth to our child. There will be another half-breed running amok in the world. Does this not make you angry?”

“Why would it? I am glad that my progeny has found peace.”

Sylus stared at him dumbfounded. “Your jokes are cruel.”

“I do not joke. Do you think that I regard you so little, my son?”

“I am a curse!” Sylus fumed. “A punishment for a woman who tried to take your magic. I know you do not care for me.”

“I created you. If I thought you would be a blight on this world I would have found a different way to punish that woman.” Tengya’s quiet and calm response only stoked Sylus’s own ire. “But I see how your time away has warped your opinion of me.”

“It is not warped. I know I was not accepted here. You all saw me as a monster. An atrocity!”

“I cannot speak for the others, but I know what I thought.” Tengya huffed, blowing a jet of steam at Sylus. “And I never saw you as a monster. You were my creation, my child, whether you accept that or not is your own decision. And then you left. Ran away from the tribe.”

“Because I was not accepted.”

“You were accepted, Sioltach. You are because I say you are. But that was not the problem.” Tengya said, “You are dragon, but you are also human. And you craved to be loved, but that is not something dragons can provide. I cannot apologize for not being able to defy my nature. But I can give you this.” he reached into a chink of his massive scales and produced a jar the size of an urn.

Sylus caught it with a small grunt. “Take the salve. Anoint your child. Accept them as a dragon, love them as a human, as only you can.”

“That is it?” Sylus stared at the jar. “You have nothing else to say?”

“What more is there to say?” Tengya stood. “Return to your mate. Live well, my son.”

Tengya took off into the sky, leaving Sylus alone in the field holding the massive jar. He bowed his head. “Thank you.” he said to the wind.

He packed the salve into his pack and immediately began the flight back to the mountain. There were many thoughts going through his head but all he cared about was going home. Sylus was relieved though. He had the salve and while it wasn’t set in stone there was an implied promise that Tengya would not let any of the others harm you or your child.

Sylus wanted to get back as soon as possible but the flight was long and he needed to bunk down in a tree for a couple hours before continuing the journey. He finally made it back to the mountain late the next morning. The sight of the mountain had filled him with so much joy. He was finally going to be back with you.

He touched down at the entrance and the joy of being home immediately evaporated. Something was wrong.

He sniffed at the air. Your scent was faint, almost gone. And there was something else. Other scents that didn’t belong. Sweaty and masculine scents. Had you decided to go to the village after all? Had your father come to get you? What was happening?

Sylus set the pack down and ran through the cave trying to find you but could find you nowhere. That’s when his nose caught another scent, it was hidden but the further into the caves he got the more prominent it became. Blood.

“No…” Sylus followed the scent into a dark room. His eyes strained in the darkness until he found the source of the smell. That horrible sweaty masculine smell was strongest in here, mixed with the faint sour tang of fear and metallic blood. He found a pair of large scissors were covered in blood. Not yours. But the dark stain on the ground, that was yours. That reeked of you.

Someone had come in here and and hurt you. Someone had raided his home and taken his mate and child!

His skin grew blisteringly hot. What felt like fire surged through his blood and red hot heat burned out of his eyes. Each breath he tasted smoke and death on his tongue.

He ran back out of the cave, his skin shredding around him as he took to the sky once more. A scream ripping from his throat in pain and fury. He was going to kill them! He was going to kill all of them!

[xxepherr]

hasan blurb/fic idea or request (idk if your taking requests?)

hasan blurb/fic based on the tree decorating stream but reader is very particular about how she thinks tree should be decorated and hasan just sits back and observes her lovingly decorating the tree while chat is saying he's down bad the whole time 😩

.ೃ࿐HEART EYES

summary — in which hasan can't help but sit back and watch with adoration while you decorate his christmas tree

pairings — hasan piker x reader

pronouns — she/her

word count — 736

note — they're not dating in this one but you can assume they're unofficially dating or not yet at the point of sharing their feelings. up to you! (also this is super late but i was away for the christmas period so!!)

YOU'D STAYED OFF YOUR phone ever since you last watched hasan and murat go to home depot with rae, marche and qt. you technically had other things to be doing — for one, finishing wrapping christmas presents — but you also wanted to be entirely blindsided by what hasan would be bringing home with him.

to be fair though, you hadn’t expected him to bring home multiple dog statues. when you knocked on the door to hasan’s house and his dad welcomed you inside, you were hoping that he’d come back with a tree and decorations, maybe some lights that you could string up across the trees in his yard.

the tree you were currently staring at was ugly. seriously ugly. apparently it was qt’s choice ( like the dogs ) to get it, and apparently it was the least ugly according to murat.

YOU stood there in the most disappointed fashion anyone had ever seen. once glance at chat and they all shared the exact same sympathy.

“hasan,” you interrupted his mindless chatter about how he was decorating the tree. you weren’t even sure who he was talking to anymore — it sounded more like he was trying to reason with himself that he was doing a good job. “can i just—“ you cut yourself off, now wanting to sound demanding when you were his guest. “nevermind.”

he had stopped the second he heard your voice directed at him instead of chat anyway, the baubles forgotten about in his large hands. “what’s up?” he asked, all his attention on you.

you blinked. “uh, tinsel and lights usually look better if you put them on first.”

without a word, he scooted the box of baubles away with his foot and pulled the tinsel off from where it was hanging around his neck like a scarf. “then it’s all yours,” he announced, placing the tinsel around your neck like a silver medal.

the atmosphere was different because qt and rae weren’t sticking around for the decorating. you kind of wished they had stayed because the vibes would've been easier to deal with. you hadn't been alone on stream with hasan since the recent . . . development in feelings that had started to bubble up into existence.

the second the ornaments were in your hand, you were in complete control of decorations. years and years of being the designated tree decorator as a kid were coming back full force. you started at the top, walking around the tree to sit the lights in an evenly spaced manner down the tree, and then did the same with the tinsel.

hasan was — uncharacteristically — at a loss for words. his eyes were on you the entire time, capturing every movement you made as if he would miss a thing if he blinked. he had very little commentary, fixated on every aspect of you like you would disappear, slipping away like you were never in his house in the first place.

the chat was not helping his case.

"shut up, chat," he tried to keep his voice low and serious, "i am not down bad. shut the fuck up."

you heard him of course, the space between you not large enough to whisper secrets. that, and you'd felt his eyes burning holes through you, a silent shadow across every one of your movements. every ornament

you heard him of course, the space between you not large enough to whisper secrets. that, and you'd felt his eyes burning holes through you, a silent shadow across every one of your movements. every ornament — all of it. you could only imagine what his twitch chat was saying as he cleared his throat uncomfortably at being caught.

he didn't have the pleasure of staying in the unknown, unable to tear his eyes away from every chat message, peripheral vision on you through the monitor. every down bad, whipped, are they dating? multiplied tenfold, then triple that. and triple it again. he was in for it now, and you were — supposedly — none the wiser to any of it.

you knew, you could tell. heat burnt across your cheeks as you kept your back turned, yapping on about decorations to chat to provide an out to hasan, a way for him to involve himself in the conversation to change the topic.

there was really no use in keeping it a secret now.